a twist on the y/n x ceo memes i keep seeing around recently ✌️ my first attempt at writing a more cruel reader pls bear with me
cw: reader has a dick, rough unprotected sex, spit as lube, mean reader, hair pulling, closeted boyfriend
rumours. that's all they were, obviously. the two of you had an agreement. you'd keep the relationship a secret, and you'd love each other in private. of course, you did your best to understand... he was in a highly precarious position after all. he'd never given you reason to complain - he was an attentive lover behind closed doors, never the type to be disloyal. surely that was still the case?
yet, you couldn't help the twinge of doubt that tugged at your heart as your footsteps reverberated down the familiar hallway towards his office. you used to visit regularly, under the guise of a meeting between business partners. as of late, however, he'd been requesting your presence less and less. you assumed he'd been overworked... surely that couldn't coincide with the newest office gossip your friend offhandedly mentioned of the ceo's affair with the new female employee? their alleged passionate flirtations, while you'd been at home preparing an extra helping of his favourite meal to lessen his burden?
but there she was. massaging his shoulders while he sighed in contentment, looking up at her with the same gaze he gave you every night. the two of them looked up in surprise as you entered without knocking, as if you were interrupting them. everything voice in your head was screaming at you to scream, get mad, hit him.... but despite this, you remained calm. a small smile crept its way onto your face. this was going to be... amusing, to say the least.
"sorry, miss. do you mind leaving us alone for a bit? we're supposed to have an important meeting currently." you were all smiles to her, willfully ignoring his panicked expression as he looked helplessly between you and her. a twisted sense of satisfaction found itself settling in your heart - anything he said would just dig himself into a deeper hole.
"oh, of course. see you later." she blew a kiss to him as she left the room, winking.
the tension in the office was so thick, it was almost palpable. you waited for him to break the silence, or perhaps he was waiting for you to say something. moving closer, he flinched. "what's wrong?" you tilted your head in feigned confusion. you were so calm, it unnerved him.
"listen- darling, she came onto me. it's not what it looks like-" he babbled, desperately trying to save face. his eyes lit up with fear as you stepped closer, only to turn into surprise when you merely reached to gingerly massage his shoulders like she did just moments earlier. the lingering warmth of her hands tingled along his neck, only to be extinguished by your icy touch.
"hey, don't go pointing fingers. she seems like a perfectly nice woman. i'm sure she wouldn't have came on so strong if she knew you were attached." your grip turned venomous, as you bundled a bunch of his hair and brought him up to your eye level. whimpers escaped his mouth at the pain. "too bad someone's ashamed of me."
"not- not ashamed!" he denied vehemently, struggling to free himself from your grip. it was hard, since you'd always been the physically stronger one. "i- i love you, it's just- you know how it is! people would stop investing in the company if they knew i was in a relationship with a- a-... y'know..." even he knew how absurd that sentence sounded, trailing off as he looked into your eyes for any trace of forgiveness. "i'm sorry!!! i'll tell her to back off, just please-"
"always about the company, isn't it?" you murmured, slamming him down onto his desk, watching as his neatly stacked papers flew everywhere. your hardening crotch pressed against his ass, ignoring his pleas for mercy. leaning down, you whispered in his ear, breath sending nervous tingles down his spine. "you've never once thought about how i feel. having to keep everything a secret, and this is how you repay me?" delivering a harsh slap to his buttock, he lets out a sharp yelp of pain, spasming against his desk, sending even more papers flying. "i'm sorry- i'm sorry-" is all his dumb brain can muster, feeling your hands tug down his pants without warning. he's an incoherent mess, tears and snot dribbling down his face. it's all happening too fast. the difference between this and your usual love-making sessions were like night and day - usually, you held him gently, like a doll, afraid to break. but now, you were treating him like some disposable fucktoy.
a little spit was all he deserved as prep. he frantically looked behind as he felt you wet his entrance, trying to gesture towards some drawer in his desk. "please- honey, i have lube and condoms in there-" he froze, realising the implications of his words. "no, wait! i don't mean- ughhh." you cut him off by stuffing him full, relishing in the sight of him scrambling to hold onto the desk so his knees don't give out. "of course you do." you weren't even angry anymore, just disappointed.
bundling up a fistful of his hair again, you started to thrust at a reckless pace, with little concern for how well he was adjusting. you drank up his whines and moans as he convulsed against the desk, fingers clawing at anything to find purchase. "bet you fuck her like this everyday, don't you?" you snarled in his ear, feeling him clench harder at the sheer hostility in your voice. "i don't- i really, really don't!! i was saving the condoms for you-" "fucking liar." it was a rather cathartic sight seeing your usually powerful boyfriend reduced to a trembling, whimpering mess. the way he tried to blatantly deny everything was sorta cute, really. it just made you want to ruin him more.
switching positions, you lifted him up with ease, pinning him against the nearest the wall and continuing to fuck in and out of him. his eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the sudden change in elevation, hands clawing at your shoulders so he doesn't fall down. "kiss me- please, kiss meeee-" he angles his head upwards, desperately trying to capture your lips in a display of affection. "no." you said coldly, a cruel smile playing on your lips. the look of pure disappointment that crosses his features is priceless. "y'know what would get me to forgive you?" "just tell me, please- i'll do anything." "let me carry you outside like this, and fuck you in front of everyone." "no!! no... please...." he sobbed vehemently against your chest. "anything but that...."
"hm. as expected. embarrassed of me until the end." he couldn't even refute your words, head hung low, ashamed of his behaviour. "where did i go wrong, truly? having such a slut for a boyfriend...." you sighed, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to meet your scornful gaze. your cock throbbed and pulsed, nearly deforming his insides. it was a clear reminder of who he really belonged to, at the end of the day. his own cock flopped around, weeping and unattended, like it was useless. "don't cry, now.... you got yourself into this mess." without warning, you released inside him, feeling his legs tighten around your hips as he tried his best to muffle his own mewls.
he slumped against the wall, looking up at you through his eyelashes. your fluids leaked out of him, staining the carpet white. "you really should clean this place up." as you buckled your pants back up, you gestured towards the documemts strewn everywhere, a record of your heated disciplining. "wouldn't want anyone to find out, would we?" he winced at the mockery in your voice, only able to blink away tears of regret. gods, who knew what punishment was awaiting him back home....
TW: Rough sex, Multiple positions, Kissing, Orgasms, Squirting, Overstimulation, Unprotected sex, Baby-trapping, P-in-V, Creampies, Power dynamics, Voyeurism/Exhibitionism (window sex, but no one sees you two), Biting, Hickeys
AN: I really wanted to make it funny by having them break the window, but oh well. Another time I suppose 😩
Word Count: 1.7K+
Tall, rich, and with his insanely loyal entourage constantly trailing beside him, no one dared to approach him. Even paparazzi were afraid of being caught in the bushes by his security because of the stern expressions his bodyguards always wore like they weren't afraid of giving someone a thrashing.
But with you, a fateful meeting having coffee together late at night in an empty office led to many laugh-filled conversations during the days ahead, and eventually to you sitting on his lap in his pristine office during another late night.
The caffeine must have gotten to you two.
You were pressing kisses to his cheek and neck as he laid back and let you work. Your fingers grasp the knot of his tie and gently tug to ask for permission. He's only giving you a lazy smirk in response while covered in faint lipstick stains.
You frown but pull his tie down lower, loosening it, but not enough to undo it, so you can pull him closer to you. However, he refuses to budge and gives you a challenging look.
Try harder.
You huff but go back to pressing kisses that leave indents in the shape of your lips on his pale skin. Red mars his neck and collarbones along with his face and the corner of his mouth.
You rub a thumb against his cheek as you plead with him to let you kiss him, preferably with tongue, but he only lets out a small chuckle and tilts his head further into your hand.
“If you so desire, then by all means.”
Your fingers hold his shoulders for support as you lean in to press another kiss, but against his lips for once. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip as you asked for entrance, begging for him to indulge you. His tongue slips out to greet yours as you shyly try to dive your way further into his mouth.
“Mmmph!”
His hand tangles in your hair as he roughly pushes himself against you. Your lips crushing onto his as he invades your mouth instead. You try to fight back, your tongue barely putting up a struggle as he pushes a hand into your back, forcing you to bend to his whims and giving him an even better angle to ravage you. You start to run out of air and scratch at his chest, he finally lets go of you with a wet pop as a string of spit connects you two.
Too intimate. Too physical.
You swipe at where you two are connected on his lip, breaking the tether as he breathes heavily while gazing at you with lust. You can only watch as he loosens his tie to finally rip it off of him without ever breaking eye contact with you.
God, you loved your job.
“N-no condom?”
You ask nervously as he spreads open your legs to look at your glistening pussy and fluttering hole.
“Unnecessary.”
His shirt was loose as his tie somehow managed to still hang precariously over his neck while he was in the process of ripping his belt from its notches.
“Again?”
You pout as this is the third time in a row that Malleus has forgone using a condom. Yeah, it felt better with him rawdogging you, but you were tired of trying to find him the next day and shouting at him to give you money for Plan B.
“It's almost like you want to get me pregnant…”
You grumble out before turning away. He's tilting your head back to look at him before pressing a kiss to your lips.
You never get a response as he starts to rub his tip against your folds. A whimper slipping out as he brushes against your clit a few times before finally going down to where you actually need him. Your hole clenches nervously as it feels him trying to slide into you, inch by inch. You moan as you can hear small groans coming from him. His deep voice was enough to send tingles down your spine at how verbal he was being.
“T-too much…”
You whimper out as you press at his chest. He's quick to grab that hand and press a kiss to your palm as he gives you a gentle smile.
“It's the same as always.”
Maybe this was just the cons of fucking a man that's nearing seven feet tall…
Your legs shake as you feel him closing in on your cervix.
“Ah! That's enough!”
He chuckles and you feel him still.
“Very well.”
His thighs hit yours as he finally begins to piston his way into you. He's abandoned your hand in favor of grabbing onto one of your legs as he waits for you to start moaning the way he likes, so he can slip deeper into you. His self-control is waning as he watches you grip onto his desk and try to squirm away from his pounding.
You agreed to this. Don't run away.
He's grabbing your other leg and throwing them both over his shoulders as he slams his hands down on either side of you and begins to rail you forcefully.
“Ah! No, Malleus!”
You scream out loud as you feel his dick filling you up. It's unnatural. It doesn't feel real. Your pussy squelches with each movement as his cock slips in and out with no resistance. His fingers greedily tangle into your hair as he leans down to ravage your lips again. His mouth suffocates you as he refuses to let up, and when he does, it’s only enough to keep your tongues tangled while you desperately try to suck in air.
“Hah. Oh~”
You whimper as you arch under him, your chest meeting his as he tries to stop himself from completely destroying your poor pussy. He knows he's too deep, he knows you're too far in the throes of pleasure to tell him to stop, but he can't either. Not until drops of pearly white drip from your little hole pool onto the hardwood of his desk.
“Wait! Is this okay?!”
You shout as he has you pushed against the glass of his window.
“It's far too high up for anyone to truly observe anything. There's no need to fret.”
His words come out in stunted grunts as his dick stays snug in your pussy. He refuses to leave your warmth for even a second. Your breasts push against the glass as your hands leave slight smudges where you try to grasp for any sort of support. His arms hold you up as they encircle your waist in a death grip. His body is bent over yours before he finally grabs one of your hands and forces it to stay still against the thick glass.
“Hah…”
Why is he more turned on than me?!
You could feel his cum dripping out of you as he tried to calm down enough before thrusting into you again. His dick hitting your pussy with more force than necessary as he went slowly but deep. You could feel an imprint of his dick inside of you, forcing your walls to conform to his length as it pushed more cum into you before most of it sloshed back out.
“Ugh. Hah~”
He grunts into your ear with each thrust as his face has long become a dark crimson. His eyes squeeze shut as his hips snap with desperation against yours. He wants you. He needs you. But you just see him as an authority figure you're having a fling with, don't you?
Your breaths puff against the window as you feel your pussy trying to drag him in further. His seed spilling continuously as he refuses to pull out of you. Your legs tremble as does your voice.
“H-how many times have you cum so far, Malleus?”
He doesn't answer you as he pushes you against the glass further. His body weight keeps you in place as he forces you to stay still. His hands splay themselves onto yours, pinning them to the window, along with his legs forcing your knees apart.
“M-Malleus?! Eep!”
His teeth dig into the lateral region of your neck as you let out a high-pitched squeak and squirm against him. Your hips gyrate unintentionally and he's letting out a hum of approval as the plush of your ass keeps brushing against his pelvis and stimulating his own arousal.
“Malleus~”
Small trails of drool spill from your lips as you can feel rivulets of your mixed cum going down your legs and probably his.
“Just. One more. Just… One more.”
He's clenching his teeth as he speaks. Too far gone to stop even as you're both overstimulated from multiple orgasms.
“N-no more. I can't do it, Malleus!”
You cry out as he refuses to leave an inch of space between you two. The buttons of his shirt leave indents on your back as his teeth leave behind impressions on your shoulders and collarbones. Your pussy is sore and overflowing with semen as you fear not even Plan B might work at this point with how much he's pumped into you.
“N-not yet.”
You're about to start complaining again when he forces your wrists together above with one hand before turning you to face him. His breathing is ragged, sweat beads at his brow, and his pupils are blown wide. He's forcing your legs up to your chest and pummeling back into you.
“N-no! Wait! Ah~”
You don't even get the chance to scream in pleasure as his lips are latching onto yours. His dick rams into you at an absurd pace as drops of your essence fly off your pussy and onto his pelvis. His eyes don't leave yours once, not even when yours are rolling back as he fills you up for the last time tonight. The friction from his hairs rub against your clit and have you clenching and squeezing around his dick. Your pussy letting out a cry for help as liquid gushes out of you and covers his torso. He finally seems satisfied at how far gone you are, twitching and whimpering out soft pleas of:
“No more.”
“It's too much.”
You even squirm at him pressing a feather-light kiss to your navel. He chuckles as he pulls out of you and watches as your combined fluids spill onto the floor.
… I suppose I will have to bribe the janitor to stay quiet once more…
But none of that mattered, as long as he could keep you by his side. Your soft body, your kind words, and your bashful expressions. You’re the only thing he looks forward to seeing each day, and it would be even better if he could see you every morning in his bed.
If you wanna support me -> Here's my Ko-Fi 💌
More Here -> Part 2 - Twisted Wonderland ML - General ML
Taglist: @lurulu-ru, @yan-love-reader, @sleepystuffnigth, @what-is-wrong-with-everyone, @lucky-whispers, @lovley-valentine7, @alisiujana, @rincommittedarsin, @mspurpl3, @alexa24, @uniquecutie-puffs, @snowmis, @stuff6969fuckyou, @eldritch-alicedoll, @nrc-prefect-struggles, @som3thingssomething, @ashielle, @pomefioreism, @stormy64, @bloomingwitch , @fromsaltandsea, @sewingsimplysews, @youaremy3pmpoetry , @xyyyulat, @0bunnibella0, @diorsvnz , @ladywh1msy, @d0llyb1tes, @malleusglazer17, @nickey-diano. @linasxoxo, @chaosisclassy, @rilkeanlungs, @biancabaryonx, @nezha21, @cottoncandyclouds-stuff, @yoonieverseworld, @uniquecutie-puffs, @lilyalone, @reivelmin, @ari200027 -> DM or comment that you want to be added to everything or for a specific character/series 💚
no one knows how to play with your carefully laid plans quite like your boss.
WAYNE CEO!TIM DRAKE REQUESTS ARE OPEN IN MY ASK BOX: MAKE HEADCANONS/REQS SHORT, SWEET, AND SPECIFIC.
"I can see you waitin' down the hall from me and I could see you up against the wall with me and what would you do, baby, if you only knew? And I could see you throw your jacket on the floor / I could see you make me want you even more. What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you, oh, I can see you." - Taylor Swift, I Can See You
7:30 AM
Your heels click-clack down the empty hallway of Wayne Enterprises, the noise echoing. You’re the first one here every morning, like clockwork. And just like every other morning, there’s a laundry list of things to do before the day officially starts and everyone arrives for their work day. You’re not sure your first work day ever officially ended. Being the boss’s secretary will do that, won’t it?
The coffee pot whirs to life as you set it to brew, morning light streaming through the windows of your company’s high-rise. Your hand moves quickly, jotting down what needs to be restocked as your eyes scan the staff kitchen.
8 AM
Like always, you ready yesterday’s report, the printer chugging out paper in a drumbeat as you prepare the dark red manila folder Mr. Drake usually reads it from. Stapled, signed, sealed, and delivered, it slaps down heavily onto Mr. Drake’s vacant desk in the quiet of the empty office.
9:18 AM
The last stragglers are in, rushing in from their morning commutes with their coats over their arms. You watch them through the glass partition separating their cubicles and offices from Mr. Drake’s, smirking to yourself. Just as you come in at the same time every day, so do your coworkers. Their time just isn’t always.. on time.
9:30 AM
He looks tired. But it’s his own brand of tired that you’ve come to recognize.
His tie isn’t straight, there’s hair out of place in his otherwise perfect coif. There’s a dragging of his loafered feet as he makes his way from the elevators to you.
This is the type of tired that’s really going to be your problem, too. A mental tired, an emotional tired, that you seem to be the cure for. Yet, like always, there’s a smile pasted on his lips as he walks through the office, smiling and greeting his employees as they begin the day.
One of your coworkers passes your desk on the way to the kitchen, beaming. “He’s in a great mood today, isn’t he?”
It’s all you can do to nod in reply, your smile more like a grimace as he gets closer. You can’t believe no one else sees it.
“Mr. Drake, good morning.” You greet, eyes all over the tailored suit he’s wearing, the reading glasses perched on his nose. He’s gotta know by now that three piece suits are your greatest weakness, right?
“Good morning,” he replies, looking peaky despite the clear hunger in his eyes as he takes you in. He pauses for a second, just looking at you, before placing the to-go cup of coffee in his hand onto your desk. “Don’t even need coffee anymore.”
His office door shuts behind him, and you’re left with his coffee.
Investigation only makes things more confusing: he drinks it black. The cup in front of you is holding what seems eerily close to your order.
10:48 AM
It’s not even noon yet and your panties are already wet. They’re a nice pair too, ones that appeared on your doorstep one day in a perfectly wrapped package. The label on them is in Italian, like the kind you usually splurge on for yourself. After that, it somehow wasn’t a surprise to find they fit you like a glove.
“Sir, your meeting.” You grit out, his fingers working deftly between your legs as your eyes flutter shut. It reflects poorly on you and the company if the CEO’s right-hand woman can’t even manage to get him to meetings on time.
It’s so unfair. He seems barely affected, sitting in his desk chair as you lean against the desk on his right side, his thighs spread as the muscles in his forearm flex.
He can’t play coy, however. You know exactly what he’s doing, with the way he’s working you open. It’s making your toes curl inside your patent leather pumps.
“Yes, it’s soon, yes, I remember. Will you let me see you?” His tone quickly changes from devil-may-care to far-too-invested as you tuck your face into your shoulder, away from his gaze. Your internal body temperature rises as you hear the sound of his fingers sliding into the soaking wet, hungry spot at the apex of your thighs.
It doesn’t help that he really took the time on you today, either. You entered at 10:15 to discuss his itinerary for the day and prepare him for the meeting at 11. Five minutes in, he began to kiss you like a high school boyfriend, eager and short on time. His fingers had quickly found the buttons of your blouse, and not long after that, your nipples were in his mouth as he worshipped your body like he had all the time in the world.
(He really didn’t.)
“S-sir,” You reply, positively gasping for air. It’s like he’s somehow figured out a way to steal every ounce of oxygen from the room. “You’ll be late.”
“I’ll just watch the meeting from our security footage later.” His voice is velvet, a dose of poison wrapped in silk as he puts your pleasure over his duty. “Up and around, beautiful.”
You have two choices:
Refusal, point blank. Your most stern expression on as you cross your arms and insist at his punctuality.
Or,
You could give in.
Some days, it feels like the trolley problem. Others, it’s a no-brainer. The easiest question you’ve ever answered in your life. What’ll it be today?
10:52 AM
You comply, tottering on your heels to turn around before bending at the waist over the dark wood of his desktop.
There’s no sound quite as erotic to you as the unbuckling of your boss’s belt.
(What an HR nightmare!)
Mr. Drake groans low, under his breath, as he pulls your skirt up around your hips and your panties down around your ankles.
“Pretty girl, you’re all wet.” He tuts, yet you’re not quite sure if he’s talking to you or the part of you that’s now exposed.
The way his cock feels as he slides inside of you is nothing compared to the sound he makes to accompany the action. That one little noise he makes has it sounding like you're all he needs, like he’s been desperately waiting for the next moment he could have with you. At the core of it all, it’s an ego boost for you, a show of vulnerability from your otherwise indifferent boss.
“Sir,” you pant, cheek and chest pressed to the wide expanse of his desk. “This is gonna make you even later.”
Your boss huffs out a laugh from behind you, one hand gripping into the plush fat of your hips as the other plays with your clitoris like he needs something to do with his fingers.
“You’d think my being balls deep inside of you would shut you up for a little bit,” he says, his hips clapping into yours as he picks up the pace. “Clearly, I need to do a better job.”
Mr. Drake grabs your wrists, pulling you up. Your button-up slips, and he takes the chance to make his presence known: his pink lips pull at the skin of your left shoulder, goosebumps covering your body as he bites down.
Shivers wrack your body as you think about the picture you’re making, what an onlooker would see if they walked in right now. Your boss drops your wrists to grab your right leg, hooking his hand where thigh meets knee and pulling your leg up and off of the floor.
The new position makes you moan out loud, your eyes roll back into your head as he works his hips. The slide of his cock back and forth feels so good it’s almost ridiculous, a little surreal. Mr. Drake’s more long than wide, but the way he knows how to use it feels too good to be true. There've been many a sleepless night over it—not just with your hand between your thighs, but wondering where he honed his craft. You’re a little jealous, if anything.
10:54 AM
Mr. Drake’s leaning back, supporting your weight as he thrusts up into you, hands busy.
He groans, frustrated. “Honey, get your hand down there for me. I can’t help right now.”
Ever obedient, you snake your hand down your front to circle your clit, breathing heavily as it makes your legs shake.
“I’m sorry I can’t do it myself,” he whispers, voice like liquid sin. “Will you forgive me?”
“I can consider it.” You whine, eyebrows cinched in the middle of your forehead. You’re close, so close, pleasure pumping through your veins as your boss moans through gritted teeth from behind you. “Maybe if you promise to work on your punctuality.”
Mr. Drake swallows down a whimper to reply to you, your walls clenching down on his cock so hard it’s making him dizzy. “I’ll promise you anything, beautiful.”
His words are like the activation for your orgasm, and you quiver in his arms as it explodes through your nervous system, muscles spasming. Your reaction is clearly the nail in the coffin for your boss, because through a haze of pleasure you hear his moans, feel his cum fill you as his hips stutter.
10:56 AM
You straighten his tie as he wraps his arms around your waist, grabbing your ass before he zips up your skirt. He tucks in his shirt as you button yours, smooth down your hair.
You barely have a chance to try and fix his before he’s buttoning his suit jacket, kissing your cheek, and stalking across the room and out of his office door.
You blink, plopping down in his office chair to try and catch your breath.
It’s whiplash, but you’ll take it if it means he actually does his job.
a/n: i'm not even a swiftie like that this song is just so so so them. like
also i barely proofread this. sorry not sorry
ALSO, first fic of mine EVER posted with proper capitalization. are you guys proud. i feel so adult
ALSO, AGAIN, i can't remember where i got these post dividers—if you know, please lmk so i can tag the account that made them! 🤍
and FINALLY: if you enjoyed this, please thank mimi. this fic is hers, her idea, her man, etc. thank her for helping me to get this head canon written after literally two years. go us! 🌝🫶🏻
Tags: Dom!Sevika, boss!Sevika, sub!reader, rough sex, fingering, spanking, throat fucking, semi-public sex, power dynamics, light overstimulation (towards the end)
Genre: Smut
Summary: You’ve been teasing your boss for weeks. Today, Sevika finally pins you to her desk, and makes you beg.
You really hoped she'd notice today.
And she did — for a moment at least. When you walked into her office with her morning schedule, her gaze flicked south: to the short skirt hugging your frame, and then the black see-through stockings underneath.
Your face lit up, hoping she'd finally do or say anything at all to put you out of your misery.
But her eyes returned to your face as quickly as they'd left, and she resumed the conversation like she hadn’t just been checking you out.
Shit.
What would it take to get your boss to fuck you?
You were beyond tired of burying your fingers in your cunt every night, wishing they were Sevika’s instead — of taking several “bathroom” breaks at work, which were really just excuses to get off with her name on your lips once again — so you'd decided to take matters into your own hands. And by that, you meant seducing her.
You’d started soft: holding her gaze a little longer or letting yours fall to her lips.
But when she still did nothing about that, you got bolder. Tighter, smaller clothes. Stronger perfume. Not-so-decent noises you’d make when you stretched or were tired.
Hell, just yesterday you’d shown up to work with the tightest blouse you owned and undone at least three buttons — but Sevika was really damn good at keeping herself together.
You could tell she noticed, by the way she continuously looked below your neck and how her stare followed your hips anytime you left her office. And that made you wonder what else you needed to do to get her fingers off her laptop and under your skirt.
Your hands reached for the papers on her desk, eyebrows set in a deep frown.
Another day to be spent masturbating instead of being railed by your hot boss.
But as soon as you turned around and made for the door, you heard Sevika’s chair slide across the wooden floor.
"Is there anything more you need, ma—"
Her hand gripped your forearm, and before you could utter anything else, she had you pinned to her desk, wrists held tightly behind your back.
"God, what the fuck are you? A succubus?" Her breath ghosted your skin, causing the hairs on your nape to rise… and your thighs to clench around your heat.
Your heart hammered in your chest, and you blinked once. Twice.
No, you weren’t dreaming. Sevika really had you bent over the desk, her hand hovering above your skirt.
You gulped, anticipation and nerves twisting into one messy coil that pulsed in your gut.
"I… don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, ma’am," you muttered, hoping to push Sevika even further.
And oh, it worked.
Her palm landed hot and fast against your ass in a hard smack that echoed through the office. You yelped, the sting quickly melting into cunt-soaking ecstasy.
"Oh yeah? You wanna play that game?"
Another smack.
"Wanna pretend like you weren’t trying to seduce me all this time?"
Smack.
"Just look at you. Moaning like a desperate little slut."
You bit your lip, tears welling in your eyes with every hit to your ass. It felt good — good enough to ruin the underwear you had on.
As if she read your mind, Sevika reached for your skirt and slowly pushed it up.
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” she murmured, already dragging your stockings down your thighs.
“Even wore a thong. Like you expected this to happen.”
A whimper escaped you when the cool air of the office hit your soaked cunt.
But instead of the feeling of being filled, you were met with nothing.
When you looked back, Sevika stood there — smug as ever — though the hunger in her eyes betrayed her heavily.
"Say it."
"S-say what?"
Gosh, did she really want you to beg? And why did your pussy clench around nothing at the idea of pleading for her? Something must be seriously wrong with you.
Your throat bobbed.
"Please, Ms. Sevika…" Your voice came out small and shaky despite how much you craved it. Craved her.
"Please what?"
Her grip on your wrists tightened, making you wince.
"Please… fuck me. Please. God, I need you."
A slow smirk spread across her face.
"Good girl."
Her fingers slid between over your slit, gathering the slick dripping down your thighs. You whimpered, trying to swallow back the filthy, needy sounds that threatened to escape you.
Then — without warning — she pushed two fingers inside you at once, stretching your needy hole around them.
"Oh... g-god. Ms. Sevika… right there…" You moaned as she curled her fingers into that spot that made your knees tremble.
She was relentless, pumping into you like she’d been dreaming about this for months. Maybe she had, really. With her free hand releasing your wrists and slipping under your shirt to roll your nipples between her fingers, it was impossible to think otherwise.
Your stockings were soaked through with your arousal, and you gripped the edges of the desk like you'd collapse if you let go.
"Hear that?" she breathed, her fingers squelching lewdly inside you.
"Listen to how pathetic you are — leaking all over me like a whore."
You groaned, but it was cut off by the sudden movement of her hand to your mouth. She pushed her fingers against your lips.
"We don’t want anyone hearing you, do we?"
Her fingers slipped inside the wetness of your mouth, pressing against your tongue and edging closer and closer to your throat. Your eyes watered as you tried to take them, mouth stretching around her knuckles.
And it only made your cunt flutter harder around her.
"You’re close, aren’t you?"
You nodded desperately. She added a third finger, thrusting deeper, rougher, faster.
"Come for me," she ordered.
And you did — violently.
Strings of "Ms. Sevika—, Ms. Sevika—" spilled from your lips as you gushed around her hand, fluid dripping down both your legs and hers.
When she finally pulled her fingers out of both ends of you, your legs were useless, trembling uncontrollably. Your breath came out ragged, your mind blank and floating.
Then you felt her fingers glide over your sensitive cunt again.
"You’re going to give me three more of those."
A/N: I really am the world's slowest writer.
♡Masterlist♡
All rights reserved. Please don’t copy, repost, or claim this work as your own. This is my creation. Thank you for reading and respecting that.
synopsis: you always thought your boss was just an asshole. but when you take a well-deserved break and come back to him confessing his...feelings? you sorta wish you were fired rather than face the sneaking suspicion you might share them!
pairing: asshole!boss x assistant!reader
wc: 4.7k
content: mdni, SMUT, porn with plot, CEO AND YN LMFAO, idc if its cringe we ball, cold asshole turned soft pathetic loser, he's a dick but he doesn't really mean it, big scary man actually secret awkward virgin, confessions, kissing, loss of virginity (m!), fingering with a little lick of oral, office sex, piv sex, condom, boss/employee relationship, reader is sick of this man
PREVIEW BELOW
“This coffee is cold.”
He was lucky it wasn’t laced with arsenic.
You forced a smile anyway, taking the cup back and turning on your heel, holding your breath like it’d make it easier to resist the temptation to toss it back in his face.
“I’ll get them to remake it,” you politely replied, each step echoing in his large office as you walked back towards the dark wood doors.
“Can you get them to do the little, like foam art thing on top?” He called out, as if it wouldn't melt by the time you got back up here.
“I'll ask,” you chirped, your perky front cracking the second his office was shut behind you.
How many cups of coffee was your soul worth?
Because it sure fucking felt like you sold it just to get paid for panicking over your stuck-up boss. Reminding yourself that it was the size of your check every other week that made it worth running around and ruining half your heels to make sure Mr. Spoiled got everything he ever wanted.
The word was he went through twenty-three assistants in two months before you were hired. Even now, all these years later, he still made other executive’s assistants quit more times than you could count. Most of the employees who had the misfortune of meeting their not-benevolent CEO usually left in tears ready to look for a new job.
You considered the same more times than you could count.
He probably had etched years off your life with his ridiculous requests and constant rambling. But you didn’t quit. Refused to give in and give up the financial security that came with sticking around.
You hated him for everything he was.
Handsome. Rich. Powerful. A few taps of his fingers, a single phone call, and he could have anything. Even this job, his high position, this throne of his, he didn’t even need it. The company was his family’s. He inherited it – and his father’s attitude too, if all the rumors about the apple not falling far from the tree were true. You had never met the man. But all his son did all day was boss people around and scribble his borderline infamous last name down at the bottom of documents. Everyone else did his dirty work. Arranged his meetings and made the hard decisions.
You loathed him even more for everything he wasn’t.
Hard-working. Ethical. Resourceful.
You didn’t know if he would even eat if someone didn’t place the order and pick it up and hand-deliver it to him.
He'd been better, once upon a time, when you first started. More level-headed. He actually did his job then, instead of just sitting around in his office swiveling in his chair and chatting with shareholders. Still pampered, still pouty, throwing tantrums and being an ass when things didn’t work out just right, but he actually smiled sometimes. Nodded at you with a look that was almost appreciation when you brought him what he asked for.
You didn't know what changed.
When he decided to become an absolute dick.
You used to try too.
Had burned yourself out with your very best attempt to be everything for him. Go above and beyond, tailor your life around his, telling yourself that anyone else would do the same for your pay. There were only so many criticisms you could take. So many miniscule things you could be scolded for before your care started to shrivel and turn to hate.
Now all you had left was a few smoldering coals, the fire died out, just a hollow shell of the perfect assistant.
Getting his coffee remade for him, asking them for all his strange specifications and the fucking foam art even though you knew it would be gone by the time you made it back up to the top floor of the ridiculously tall office building you'd started to see less like work and more like a prison. All for him to not even look when you presented it to him the second time, too busy scrolling on his phone to glance while he was sipping, making some borderline lewd moaning sound at the taste of his sugary concoction that could hardly be called coffee.
You started to leave, to return to your desk outside his door so you could attempt to get all your work done by the end of the day, just for him to pick up a piece of paper and wave it out to you.
“Take this to HR,” he instructed, and you only nodded.
That was your job. To do what he wanted.
Even when you glanced down at the form he handed you and skimmed over the neat lettering to see he was signing in yet another shitty policy – this time to stop employee vacation time from rolling over.
Great. Just fucking great.
It almost felt specifically aimed at you.
You looked back over your shoulder at him, choking on the rage boiling inside you. If you didn’t think you’d go to jail, you might’ve considered murder for the latest slight in the seemingly never-ending list of them he was content committing.
He noticed though, his face perking up into a smirk when he saw your eyes locked onto his face, mistaking abhorrence for adoration, judging by the rare gleam in his eyes. God, you wished he was uglier. Wished when his lips curled up, you could only find it disgusting instead of the tiniest bit charming.
“You like what you see?” He asked, the delusional dickhead thinking you were checking him out.
Your eye twitched.
Maybe if you were drunk, you might consider sleeping with him. Definitely at least a couple of shots in. Well, actually, as long as you had a gag to shove in his mouth and shut him up, you could probably do him sober.
pairing.ᐟ ceo! jake x coffee shop owner! reader
word count: 10.2k ; mentions of vaping for reader), choi soobin from txt, sunoo, and winter from aespa
YOU AND JAKE SIM HAD KNOWN EACH OTHER since high school—unfortunately. He was the guy everyone wanted: born into wealth, already set to inherit his father's conglomerate, effortlessly charming, and untouchably arrogant.
You were... not that.
Middle-class, sure, but happy. You had parents who loved you, supported you through every ambition—even the bold one of opening your own coffee shop in Seoul.
The two of you wound up studying business at the same university. For Jake it was a stepping stone, another silky tile, in his future diamond-studded life. For you, it was everything. You needed the knowledge, the experience. You wanted to carve out a life for yourself and you did.
But while you were at school, Jake never liked you. He never gave you a proper reason—but you could feel it every side-eye he shot at you when you passed in the hall. Whenever you made the effort to say hello, or offer him a sample of the new coffee blend you'd been working on in baking club, he acted like you simply didn't exist.
So you gave up.
But that didn't stop you from working. With help from your parents along with a lot of passion, you'd opened your very own café in Seoul, right in the middle of downtown.
It was a little pocket of coziness, with clean wooden styling, relaxing jazz music, and the smell of coffee drifting out from the café out every morning.
Winter, your high school best friend, worked part-time there too. Plus, so did Sunoo, your own personal ray of sunshine who always made you laugh even when you were stressing out. You had all grown up together, and now you were creating something that was real. Something that was yours.
The café had quickly gained a good reputation. Word had spread through recommendation and many unique blends of coffee and buttery pastries were helped along by a few Instagram stories by both Winter and Sunoo who were both becoming social media stars themselves.
Then one morning, your life changed. Jake Sim, wearing a sharp black suit and pressed coat, was striding down the sidewalk with a phone in his hand. He sounded cold, clipped, and lethal. "If you can't handle the Tokyo merger, then I'm getting rid of you. I can't have incompetence like you slowing us down."
A pause. Silence. Then:
"You're fired."
With a sigh, he ended the phone call and ran a hand through his hair. That's when his eyes went across the street. There, tucked away between two boutiques, sat a new café. It looked rustic and charming, with ample light coming from within, with sections of wooden framed windows that had nicely crafted signs, possibly some kind of reclaimed wood or beautiful quality wood, was hard to tell from this distance.
He needed caffeine. Bad.
He walked in without thinking, and the little song from a ringing bell above the door rang soft behind him. He stood staring down at his phone until he looked up and mumbled, "black coffee. no sugar."
Sunoo's eyes widened the second he registered who had walked in. A smirk appeared on his lips, and he turned to you; you were standing behind the counter talking to him.
"Y/n," he said in a sing-song voice. "Look who stupidly crawled in for a cup."
You blinked. "What? "
Then you saw him. Jake Sim. Still as infuriatingly smug and impeccably dressed.He froze the second he realized who was standing there, his mouth opened as if he had just been punched, shocked, and he needed a minute to catch his thoughts.
Sunoo giggled and lightly nudged you closer to the register. "Go on. He's your customer."
Your heart jumped a little, but not from excitement. From the irony. The man who once scoffed at your coffee was now standing in your shop, asking for a cup. You cleared your throat and walked up to the counter.
"Black coffee, no sugar?" you asked, trying not to smirk.
Jake raised an eyebrow at you, finally giving you a full look. For a moment, he said nothing. His eyes flicked over the place—the décor, the long line forming behind him, the glass display filled with pastries. Then, back to you.
"You really opened a coffee shop."
You smiled, cool and calm. "I really did."
Jake had no clever response. How rare of him...
As you gave Jake his drink, your fingers teasingly brushed against his. He flinched not from physical discomfort, but the disorienting warmth that sent a jolt through him. You smiled politely, and wiped your hands on your apron as you tilted your head to finally study him properly.
He was every ounce the CEO—tailored suit, a Rolex creeping out of his cuff, the familiar air of authority that surrounded him like tacky cologne. And you could see Winter and Sunoo had picked up on it too, whispering to each other and trying (and failing) to be subtle about it from the side.
"So," you said tapping the countertop, "I hope you enjoyed my coffee."
Jake glanced down at the cup, the scent curling up beautifully and then flicked his gaze up to yours. "It's nice."
You smirked with a small laugh escaping. "I know. People always end up coming crawling back."
His brows flickered. "Cocky much?"
You giggled quietly. "You really should have tasted my baking and coffee back in the day but I guess you were busy... being a CEO?"
Jake made a light scoff while letting his gaze linger on you longer than he intended. "Yeah..."
He came to an abrupt stop, pulled from his thoughts about the warm, inviting café surrounding him. The glow from the glass display showed golden brown pastries—flaky croissants, chocolate chip scones, and cinnamon rolls that looked sinful.
The digital menu board flickered behind you while it cycled through the specials, featuring names he never would have thought to see next to the word "famous," in his wildest dreams.
It wasn't just a café. It was your café. And he was surprised at how, annoyed, but impressed he felt about this fact.
The bell above the door rang once more. A tall guy walked inside, determined and almost confident. You perked up as soon as he walked through the door, "Dark mocha with whipped cream and a cookie again?" you asked playfully.
The guy laughed as he combed his hand through his hair, "Cancel the cookie and switch that to a sandwich. I'm pretending to be healthy this week."
Jake's eyes were locked on the new guy. He recognized him right away. Choi Soobin. CEO of TXT Corporations.
He was one of the only other guys he had verbally challenged as many as so many times during shareholder meetings.Soobin stood casually by the counter, scrolled through his phone, while he talked to you like old friends. His body language told Jake he was at ease. Jake didn't like that.
He took a long sip of his black coffee.
Sunoo, who was replenishing napkins nearby, had witnessed everything. He turned to Jake and smirked knowingly before resuming "work."When Jake and Soobin's eyes finally met, both men grimaced and produced a smile.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Soobin said smoothly, eyebrow raised, "I thought you were more into those fancy cafes with gold-leaf lattes."
Jake chuckled, slow and dry. "And I didn't think you'd know what real coffee was."
You slid Soobin's sandwich over the counter just as he snorted. "I guess we both like surprises."
As the tension grew thicker, you rolled your eyes. Men."Boys, play nice. I'm not a babysitter today," you said brightly, handing Soobin his mocha.
Jake couldn't help but to watch as you gave Soobin a grin he knew well—a face you'd give him in university that he pretended not to see then.Something tweaked in his gut.You were no longer the girl trying to get him to try a caramel macchiato in the hallway, you were the woman everyone—powerful men were drawn to.
The woman who built something up from nothing. And to add insult to injury. You were glowing.
Without him.
The next day came around, near the lunch rush, and you were elbow-deep in flour, kneading dough for a fresh batch of scones when the unmistakable ding of the bell above the café door chimed again. You looked up from the counter, brushing flour off your hands on your apron. ||
And there he was—Jake Sim, business mogul, CEO of Sim Corp, and apparently, a secret admirer of cinnamon rolls. You quickly washed your hands, grinned, and called back over your shoulder, "Back for more, huh?"
Jake didn't answer at first, just strolled over to the counter, sharp in another perfectly pressed suit, removing his sunglasses with one hand and looking at the entire pastry display. "Cinnamon roll," he said flatly. "And some black coffee."
You raised an eyebrow, teasing, "You like cinnamon rolls?"
Jake merely rolled his eyes at you. Another no answer. You sighed with amusement before taking one of the warm cinnamon rolls from the tray and inserting it into the pastel blue box you designed with your logo on top.
You quickly wrote in cursive "Jake" on the box, and, like with all the orders for your favorite regulars, you slid in a tiny mint candy, then sealed the bag.
He noticed. He didn't say anything about it.
As you delivered the bag on the counter, your hands brushed against each other again. "Don't work too hard," you said softly; the same light hearted cheerfulness you exhibited whenever Soobin would stop by in between long workdays.
Jake blinked at you several times, something clearly behind the tone registered, and perhaps—perhaps—made something in his core tighten, but he didn't show it. He grabbed the bag, murmuring a quick, "Thanks," before he turned.
The bell rang once more. "Y/n!" Soobin called out with warmth you could hear all the way in the back, waltzing in, tousled hair from the wind, looking casual in a pale grey coat and denim. You smiled the biggest, "Hey! Sandwich and iced americano?"
"You know me too well." He laughed, walking towards you just when Jake had been ready to leave in which they barely brushed shoulders. Instant tension ignited. Jake stopped again briefly glaring into Soobin's eyes.
And Soobin just smiles—so smugly charming. "Didn't expect to see you again." He said cooly. "You thinking of investing in cupcake stocks or something?"
Jake scanned Soobin from head-to-toe. "Just getting coffee. Not that it matters to you," he said sharply.
Soobin's smile grew as he looked at you. "You know, Jake's not even that scary. He acts all tough and scary, but... he's just a high school kid with a grudge."
Jake's jaw tightened. You blinked at Soobin. "Stop."
Winter and Sunoo must have come up from the kitchen while all of this was going on. They had their heads together looking out from the side of the doorway, eyes wide, clearly sensing the impending doom.
"Oh, we smell tea," Winter whispered to Sunoo, who nodded his head, shuttering with excitement. As you finished packing Soobin's sandwich, you could still feel Jake looking at you. He began to back away with his pastry bag in hand, and while his face was unreadable, his jaw was still clenched.
You happily slipped Soobin his order, but before the door closed behind Jake, you briefly relived the sharp look he shot you. You had no idea what it all meant. You just knew one thing—he would be back.
The week faded into an easy rhythm. Jake was coming by more frequently—sometimes before the café even opened, leaning against the door frame in those crisp suits, coat slung over one arm, just watching you quietly water the front flowers or sip your tea while preparing pastries for the day.
At some point, you just unlocked the door for him and said nothing. You would catch his eye and smile, "The tea's on the counter."
You don't think he ever said thank you. But you do know he always drank it all. You would switch up the speaker playlist every morning, play soft indie, maybe an old jazz record—Jake never requested songs, but one time he hummed along to a song that made you feel like your heart stopped for a full second.
He still barely spoke, but you had noticed him looking at you when you thought he wasn't looking—when you were writing menu specials in chalk, fixing your messy apron bow, or trying out new cookie decorations with Sunoo and Winter.
But then there was Soobin.
Every lunch, he'd drop by with that annoyingly perfect timing, that perfect smile, and say something stupidly charming that made you giggle. Jake never said anything, but the way he flipped the pages of his book harder than necessary? Yeah—you noticed.
Then came the rare afternoon you actually sat across from him at his table, sandwich in the middle, eyeing the new book stacked on his table. "Still working? Don't you ever get a day off?"
Jake closed the book slowly. His eyes connected with yours—cold, unreadable, and sharp—as if they pierced through you.
You shivered.
"Don't you ever mind your own business?" he said, deadpan.
You gasped, making clear sounds of distress, while chewing. "Rude much! I literally give you free tea, every day!"
He shook his head, and before he knew it, a low laugh escaped from him.
You blinked. "Did the Jake Sim just laugh? In front of me?"
His expression snapped back. "No."
"Oh, come on!" you whined with a mouthful of bread, pointing your sandwich at him.
The next day was a weekend.
You had no idea whether he was going to show up—he had been there every morning and sometimes came back at lunchtime—evening was different; the place was now quiet and warm lights illuminated the pastries and plants with a golden glow. You were wiping down the counter top when the bell jangled-but it wasn't your regulars.
A guy walked in, hoodie up, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and messy bed hair like he had just woken up. Trailing beside him on a leash was a golden retriever, tail wagging excitedly as it yanked him inside.
It was someone... different.
Well—kind of.
You eyes widened.
Jake.
Or, at least, what looked like a softer version of him—no suit, no sharp lines, just... sleepy hoodie Jake being dragged inside by a happy dog.
You tried not to laugh, but failed completely.
"Sunoo, cover the register," you giggled, tossing your rag aside and hurrying out the front. The dog was already sniffing around your flowers, nose buried in lavender pots as you squatted down to pet it.
"You have a dog," you grinned as you scratched behind its ears. "Seems relevant. Kind of figured you were a dog person. You definitely give off golden retriever vibes, just underneath that professional hot CEO vibe."
Jake looked down at you, blinking. You were now in a cardigan, with your hair thrown up quickly, and your cheeks still flushed from the sunset. You didn't even know what you just said.
"I'm hot?" He asked incredulously as his lips turned upwards, his hoodie hang loosely from his body as he pulled on the leash.
You froze.Your brain stuttered like a car stuck in traffic. You stared up at him, still crouched beside the flower pot. "W-What— I—"
He cocked his head like he was the king of the world, smug now. You could feel your face heat up. "I meant—hot like you're probably sweating under all those suits," you spluttered as you quickly stood up. "Like overheated. You know, because you wear suits."
The dog barked. Jake smirked.
Sunoo poked his head out of the french door to the café and whispered to Winter, "Did she just call him hot—?"
"She did." Winter whispered back, eyes wide.
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎
Monday morning.
The world was still dark, the streets a pale blue chill as even the sun was barely above the rooftops. The café wasn't open yet—but he was there.You didn't even blink when you saw Jake through the window, standing in his usual clean-cut outfit, expensive blazer over a cream dress shirt.
His hands were deep in his pockets. You just unlocked the door and slid him a sleepy smile."You could have knocked," you said.
"You would have let me in," he said flatly.
You rolled your eyes. But you smiled anyway.
He followed you silently inside, walking toward his usual corner—but then he stopped because you were crouched behind the counter still tying your apron over the soft knit sweater you had pulled on, hair still a little tousled. You were working on your pastry dough for a new batch.
The smell of vanilla and cherry tea was wafting.Jake found himself standing just at the edge of the baking station, staring too closely. You hadn't noticed him at first, the flour streaked on your cheekbone while you made shapes in the dough.
He said nothing—he just stared, completely captivated.
You finally looked up. "...Are you seriously watching me bake?"
"You said no coffee this early," he muttered, eyes trailing over your hands.
"Are you saying you've come for a flour facial instead?" you joked, smirking at him playfully.
But just as you went to grab the bowl, your elbow gently bumped the counter edge—and flour poofed in an explosion of mist right onto his expensive shirt and jacket.
Your eyes went wide. "Oh my god—!"
His expression didn't change. You hurried forward smearing flour all over your fingers, and tried to wipe it off but that just made it worse. "I'm so sorry, I forgot to close the—your shirt was so expensive and your—"
"It's fine," he said quietly.
That shut you up.
You slowly looked up at him . You were kind of confused. You remembered it well—back in school someone had tripped, and dumped coffee all over his crisp, white polo and denim jacket. He was livid—cold glare and the silent treatment and was ruthlessly it.
But now? Jake Sim was standing here with flour on his jacket, and shirt and hair, and he looked... calm. Then suddenly you felt his fingers brush your cheek softly.
Your breath hitched.
He wiped the flour smudge away with his thumb, his eyes resting softly on the spot—then slowly drifting to meet yours. You just stared up at him, speechless. His eyes were gentle, deep brown, as they traced the lines of your face like he was memorizing every detail. The gentle curve of his lips.
The trace of cherry tea wafting from your body.
You blinked, but he was already stepping back, his usual cold persona coming back together around him as he exited the station. He sat back down with his book, flour still covering the back of his collar.
Later that day, Jake walked into the office a few hours late. His blazer still had some faint, white stain on the shoulder. His dark hair had some flour in it as well. "...Boss, what happened to your shirt?"
"Did you have a baking war?"
"Wait—do you smell that? Is that cherry perfume?" Jake ignored all of them. He casually brushed the flour off his sleeve.
He simply replied, "Mind your work," and headed to his office, a small smirk creeping up.
Back at the café. Lunch time.
You were more tired than usual. With Sunoo off, you were doing everything yourself, and your energy was running low. Even Soobin noticed.
"Are you okay?" he asked lightly, fingertips grazing yours as he took the drink from you.
You nodded, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "Mhm, just a long day."
He cocked his head, eyes narrowing. "You sure? You seem... off. Or could it be boy trouble? Or, maybe..." he grinned, "you're just flustered because of me?"
You snorted softly, half-hearted. "None of the above."
"Then what is it?"
You looked up at him, sleepy smile on your face. "I'm just... tired, Soobin. That's all."
He took the receipt from your hand, looking at you thoughtfully. Maybe he still thought there was something more to it; maybe he thought he was figuring out how you felt.
But then—
The bell above the door jingled.
You looked up and everything about you seemed to change. Your whole face brightened like someone flipped a switch flipping on your inner light.
"Jake!!"
He was halfway through faking looking at his phone when your voice sliced through it like a magnet. He looked up, immediately connecting eyes with yours, pulse racing unexpectedly.
Soobin's gaze flicked to you, then to Jake, and back to you.
Oh.
Oh.
Jake went to sit at his usual table, still wearing the blazer that was now starting to wrinkle a little and a few bright specks of flour scattered in his hair. You chuckled a little as you walked towards him with a wet cloth.
"Ohhh, you're still a mess," you playfully chided. "Come here, I'll wipe off the flour or your hair is going to be foamed a baked good."
He looked up just in time to catch your amused grin before you reached out and gently ran your fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands to shake off the flour. His bangs fell slightly over his forehead, softening his usually sharp appearance.
You were about ready to pull your hand back when Jake caught your wrist in his, though not harsh, just firm enough to stop you.
"You're making a mess," Jake said with playful teasing in his low voice, looking at your hand and then your face.
"Oops," you muttered, a clearly disingenuous apology. You took a step back, wiped your hand on your apron, and walked behind the counter and started preparing his tea order.
Jake was still watching you—it was subtle, but not subtle enough for Soobin not to notice. The moment Jake glanced down at his phone again, Soobin walked over to him with a forced casualness, though his jaw was noticeably tense.
"So... you and her?" Soobin asked, arms crossed.
Jake slowly raised his eyes, the brow furrowed. "What about it?"
Soobin leaned in a little more and spoke softly. "She lit up like a light bulb the minute she saw you. Don't you see that?"
Jake blinked once. "Are you jealous?"
Before Soobin could answer you came near with Jake's tea, chopping up the air with your deadpan voice. "You two can you not?"
You placed the cup in front of Jake. "What is this? A K-drama or something?"
You turned to go back to the counter, completely unbothered with the odd standoff.
Soobin scoffed under his breath, so quiet it was just loud enough for Jake to hear. "You wish."
Jake sipped his tea, leaned back in his chair and said just loud enough, "She likes dramas... but always chooses the bad boy."
It started innocently—Jake had given you his number after that flour-dusted morning in the café, claiming it was "just in case he had another craving for your muffins." But since then, it became a nightly thing.
You would text him after the shop closed, about anything and everything. Sometimes it was a rant about a customer. Sometimes it was pictures of your terrible latte art.
And then there was that one night. It was past midnight when you called. Jake had been plucking his guitar on the couch in his dimly lit penthouse, and when your name came up on the screen he smiled gently."You bored?" he asked after answering.
"Mmhm," you mumbled. "Whatcha doin?"
"Nothing," he offered feigning. He picked the guitar up again. "Want me to play you something?"
You yawned, now hunkered into your blanket. "Yeah...."
He began to play softly, finger-gliding over the frets, voice low and mellow. You swayed and began to drift off to sleep, breathing quiet and even, he stopped playing. "Night, sleepyhead," he said softly into the phone before hanging up gently.
A few days later, he texted you asking if you could bake for his company's private brunch event. "You're the only one I trust for this," he texted.
You had said yes before even thinking twice
The café was closed that day, and your staff helped with the preparation and delivery that day. You had on a simple black dress, soft hair, a pink charm bracelet dangling from your wrist. Not ostentatious—just you.
By the time you arrived at his company building, your arms were full of sweets and drinks, but a tall and broad shouldered bodyguard stood in your way. "I'm his friend," you exclaimed, startled. "I'm delivering the—"
Jake's voice interrupted you from across the lobby. "Let her in."
He strode quickly over to you, breezed past the guard, and before you could reach out, you flicked his sleeve, pulling him towards the display table being prepped nearby.
"I hope they like them..." you murmured, nervously looking at the line of mini tarts and mini cakes, and coffee canisters.
Without saying a word, Jake reached into his wallet, pulled out a thick stack of cash—over 500,000 won. "H-Hey! This is way too much—!"
"No. It's not." He pushed the money into your hand and walked away to direct the decorators with a weird sense of authority about him.
You felt frozen in place, flustered, holding the cash like it was radioactive. Moments later, he turned back and walked toward you again. "Stay for the brunch, yeah? I want everyone to know who made all this."
You blinked. "M-Me?"
"Yes, you."
In the lavish women's bathroom, you stood by the mirror reapplying your lip gloss, the tube clicking softly as voices echoed from the stalls.
"Ugh, he's so fine. Like, can you believe Jake still isn't married?" one girl said dramatically,
"I know, right?! But don't forget about Soobin... he's a total gentleman."
"Jake is totally my type. Dark hair, cold vibes, CEO... He probably likes it when girls are bold."
"Hah, as if.. he needs someone that matches his vibes. Probably needs someone cold and a little sharp like him."
"Ugh, I would sell my soul if either of them looked at me for more than two seconds."
You really had to fight back a laugh and finished smoothing your lip gloss on quietly, the girls finally noticing you. They were all staring at you from behind the stalls, their chatter paused.
They looked you up and down... you were unfamiliar and dressed like you belonged, but they noticed the softness you wore that none of them carried themselves with. They also probably thought you were some heiress for some family name they never heard of.
You gave them a tight-lipped smile and walked out.
The moment you stepped out, you bumped into someone. "Sorry—" you muttered, eyes widening when you saw Soobin.
He stared at you, clearly surprised. "Wait—"
But you'd already moved past him, too nervous to linger. He followed your path with narrowed eyes, noticing the pastry table... your pastries. And suddenly, it all clicked.
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎
As the gentle clink of plates and soft talking settled into the large brunch hall, Jake stepped onto the little stage with effortless grace. At once, there was silence—he commanded attention without even trying.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he spoke, a calm and steady yet confident voice, "Thank you all for joining us today. It means a lot to see so many familiar faces here together. But before we continue to enjoy the rest of the brunch, there is someone I want to introduce you to."
The spotlight fell on you; or at least that's what it felt like, even without a light. You froze in mid-sip of coffee, almost choking when he said your name. "She's the owner of a little café that I love. She works hard and is highly talented... she is someone I trust implicitly in moments like these."
A few gasps fluttered through the crowd, and that's when they saw you—the girls from the bathroom. Recognition dawned with horror on their faces. Her? The girl reapplying lip gloss? The one they brushed off as an unfamiliar socialite? A middle-class café girl?
You took slow steps in the direction of the stage and felt your heart pounding, heat rising in your cheeks, and running you hands up and down the sides of your dress, hoping it didn't look cold against your shoes.
When you reached the center, Jake stepped down. A smile melting on his face. He came closer to you, looked into your eyes, reached for your back, and lead you up. His hand was unter your dress; warm and possessive but it wasn't too much. Just that alone made your heart skip.
When you left the stage, the rich clientele stopped the hushed gossiping and started to show admiration.
"These pastries are divine."
"Where is your shop located?"
"I've never tasted coffee like this before—"
You nodded and thanked them quietly, smiling sheepishly. But the whole time, Jake's hand lingered behind you.
Just hovering. Anchoring.
You were trying so hard not to stutter through shy thank-yous.
Then Soobin watched from a few steps away. He hadn't moved from the spot where you left him. A polite smile rigid on his lips but his eyes—all on you. Even as a few women tried to strike up a conversation, he could feign a nod before bearing little to no anything for the conversations happening in the background.
His eyes followed the way Jake slunk closer to you. "You didn't try this one yet," Jake said suddenly, jolting you from your thoughts as he reached towards the dessert cart and emerged with a tiny strawberry chocolate tart.
"H-huh?"
He held it to your lips and didn't seem worried. "Open."
You felt heat rising to your cheeks as you looked between him and the little tart, then slowly opened your mouth to let him feed it to you. Jake merely smirked, brushing a crumb from your lip with his thumb before he stepped back and pridefully watched you chew.
And in the corner of the room the girls from the bathroom stood frozen. "Wait. Is that... the same girl" one of the girls whispered, voice acute with disbelief.
"Jake... and Soobin?" the other replied, tone more devastated than surprised.
They looked on as Jake, the stoic CEO with a reputation for keeping things professional, was now smiling like a golden retriever, standing too close to the girl they'd assumed was no one.But then their eyes drifted—past Jake's soft stare—to Soobin.
He was still talking politely with the women around him, ever the gentleman, ever composed. But the slight clench of his jaw, the way his gaze kept flickering to where you stood with Jake—it was unmistakable.
Jealousy.
Undisguised, unvoiced, simmering just below the surface.
He wasn't even hiding it any more.
Shit, had they really jinxed it?
Because somehow—you were the girl who'd unknowingly caught the attention of the two most unattainable men in the room. And now, the most perilous aspect of you... was the fact that you were completely oblivious to it.
────୨ৎ────
Finally, some time to yourself.
Jake had gotten lost in a flock of executives, and you had been left behind next to the fancy pastry cart. Standing there, without Jake smoothly steering the flow of conversation, made you feel fidgety—what were you supposed to do?
You shifted your weight, testing out a vanilla cream tart you'd made earlier. It was light, sweet—almost airy—but a bit of the cream clung to the corner of your lip. It was light, sweet—almost air-like—but some of the cream remained on the corner of your lip.
You didn't notice. But Jake did.
From across the room, in mid-conversation, his eyes narrowed just slightly before his feet instinctively moved toward you. You didn't even see him coming—until his thumb brushed your lower lip with casual precision, wiping the cream gently and popping it into his mouth.
"Messy," he said nonchalantly, his voice low and warm, tongue grazing the inside of his cheek as he tasted the cream.
Your breath hitched, body stiffening. "W-what was that for?"
He didn't answer, only smiled before stepping aside to grab a napkin like nothing happened.
Across the room, Soobin's jaw clenched.
Hard.
His knuckles around his glass went white as he watched the exchange—Jake, bold and unbothered, touching you without hesitation. It wasn't even flirtation. It was instinct. He realized then: Jake didn't hesitate when he wanted something. Even if Jake himself didn't know what he wanted yet... his body always acted first.
Soobin stared as you fidgeted, fingers grazing your lips. Jake hadn't even looked back at you, and still, your ears turned pink.
Jake's own thoughts flickered darkly.
There's no way I like her. No. Definitely not..
But the way you glowed in a room full of harsh lights and sharp eyes? The way your gaze always sought his first when you felt lost?
And those girls—giving you dirty looks like they owned the air around you. Jake didn't like that.
Only I get to be cold to her, he thought.
Because you still gave him your attention even when he didn't deserve it. And somehow, deep down, he knew you understood him better than most.
The following week, Soobin had tried.He really tried.Every chance he got, he found ways to stay near you, hoping you'd choose him this time. He lingered by the counter, walked beside you when you stepped outside, offered to help carry deliveries.
"I can't today," you said, watering the flowers with such concentration. "I have to make sure the roses don't droop."
And then you'd look up, smile lit up when Jake walked out with his cup of tea, as if Soobin didn't even exist.For a while, Jake had taken to sitting outside the café with you, one hand resting lazily on the cup, while you stood beside him lightly dragging your finger around the petals of a blooming pot.
The sunlight framed your figure softly as you turned toward Jake, laughing at something he mumbled under his breath.
Sunoo had been watching it all happen with exasperation, from inside the café, half-heartedly folding his arms as he let out a defeated sigh. "There's no use," he complained.
Winter agreed with a nod beside him, her lips squeezed together tight. "She won't even glance over at Soobin anymore even. We've known her longer than he has. It's over."
Soobin stood just outside earshot, his shoulders rigid, trying to keep a straight face."Oh, watch me," he grumbled, voice tight with frustration. "I'll get her. Just wait."
Winter rolled her eyes. "Keep dreaming. Can't you see the way they look at each other? Even customers ask about them now."
Sunoo hummed in agreement. "It's the tension. It's always there. Like they're one move away from crashing into each other."
And as Jake took another sip of tea, his eyes never left yours—content, but unreadable—while you smiled back, oblivious to how everything around you was starting to burn with envy.
────୨ৎ────
It started when Soobin tried to corner you again—his voice a little too casual, but his words bitter like over-brewed coffee. "You know Jake left with that girl after the banquet, right? The one in the red dress?" he said, eyes flicking to yours with fake sympathy. You tilted your head slightly, processing the claim.
You never said anything out loud, never admitted that you liked Jake. But something tight settled in your chest, a subtle pang of jealousy curling deep in your stomach.
The bell above the door jingled softly, interrupting your thoughts. Jake entered in casual wear—it was the weekend, after all—his hair tousled like he'd run his hands through it a few times too many. Beside him trotted his dog, Layla, her tail wagging as she pulled slightly on her leash. He was chatting with Sunoo outside, hesitant and awkward, until Sunoo's eyes lit up, and he rushed inside.
"Take the day off," Sunoo announced, waving his arms dramatically. "Boss or not, you're done for the day. Jake wants to hang out. Or actually—he's too shy to ask. Layla kind of insisted on coming here again. She really likes you." His grin was playful but knowing.
Behind him, Jake avoided eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck as Layla happily sniffed around the café entrance.
Soobin clenched his jaw at the news, his fingers curling around the counter. "You sure he's not just messing with you?" he muttered under his breath.
Winter rolled her eyes from where she was wiping down a table. "Jake Sim? The guy who does nothing but take business courses? The kid who talks about physics formulas like they're love poetry? If anything, he's being messed with—he's practically soft for her."
Your cheeks were on fire at her words, the heat creeping across your skin.
If Jake had left with another girl that night, why was he here now? And why was he so flustered even asking if you'd spend time with him?
Silently, you took off your apron and grabbed your bag. You waved goodbye to everyone—everyone except Soobin—and walked outside into the city breeze. Jake looked up as you joined him, arms crossed trying to act casual but failing miserable as he tugged gingerly on Layla's leash.
"You, um... wanna walk with us?" he asked, avoiding your gaze while pretending to be interested in his dog. "She's been dragging me out here all week, so I figured may as well let her have her way."
You nodded, and the two of you strolled through the city, Layla leading the way. You didn't wear anything fancy—just a soft top and jeans—but somehow, Jake kept stealing glances like you were glowing. You didn't think you were anything special. You'd always felt... average. But Jake didn't see you that way.
He liked the quiet confidence, the little things. Your bare face, your laugh. Your eyes, definitely your eyes. And your lips, though he didn't let himself think about that too long.
Eventually, you both settled onto a bench underneath a shady tree. Layla fell asleep beside you, the leash still wrapped around Jake's wrist while he held two cups of smoothies, handing you one with a slight grin.
You took it, breaking the silence. "So....you know..Soobin said you left with a girl after the banquet."
Jake blinked at you, confused. "I didn't," he said plainly, his eyebrows furrowing.
You let out a soft exhale, relief washing over your chest. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly. "Were you...jealous?" he asked, intently observing you.
You paused for a beat too long. "No..." you replied hurriedly, taking the smoothie from his hand and feigning that the weather suddenly turned so hot you couldn't stand to sit still.
You stood, cheeks burning, and began to walk again, Layla perked up to follow. Jake chuckled under his breath, quickly catching up. "You know, I was thinking about this physics theory dilemma earlier..."
And like that, he regained his comfort giving you his all, as he always did when he was calm and safe, he rambled on and on about numbers and theories you could hardly follow with his hands flinging about in amusement.
You listened quietly before mumbling, "You know I don't understand a single thing you're saying, right?" Your tone was dry but fond.
He grinned, eyes crinkling. "I know," he replied, nudging you lightly. "But you still listen. That's kinda why I like talking to you."
Your heart skipped a beat, but you said nothing. Just sipped your smoothie as the three of you walked—Jake, you, and Layla, who somehow seemed to know she had just played cupid.
It was supposed to be just a fun night out with Winter, Sunoo and a couple of your close friends, gathered under flashing lights and loud music. It had been a minute since you'd had alcohol and you'd forgotten how much you liked the way it burned down your throat, sharp and numbing. With every drink nothing seemed so serious; life was a little blurrier, a little lighter, a little more easily forgotten.
At some point someone handed you a vape, and none of them even knew you had it. But there it was in your fingers again, muscle memory, and you were exhaling soft clouds of iced peach into the fogged club air between drinks. It was messy, an unholy mix, but at that point you didn't give a damn.
You just wanted to feel nothing for once, lose yourself until your mind couldn't catch up with your body anymore. That was your worst tendency—and sadly, your friends have seen this side of you before. Jake hadn't. Not yet.
"She's gone," Winter said, shaking her head as you slumped into the booth seat, giggling uncontrollably at something Sunoo didn't even remember saying.
You were slurring, cheeks flushed, and whining Jake's name like a prayer, breathy and broken between puffs of vapor and sips of some neon-colored cocktail.
Sunoo sighed and pulled out his phone. He walked a few steps away from the table and hit Jake's number, rubbing his temple as the line rang.
Jake picked up fast. "Yo?"
"You might need to come get a certain someone," Sunoo mumbled, already knowing how Jake would react.
Jake blinked. "Is that Y/n in the background?" he asked, voice tightening at the familiar sound of your name being moaned like a confession.
"Yeah. And seriously... you may not enjoy what you see," Sunoo added earnestly. "So I'd suggest you hurry and come get her, and take her back to your penthouse or whatever, before you both do something stupid. Or before someone else does."
Jake was silent for a second, and all Sunoo could hear was silence and the vibrating tension of the line.
Then he said, "Send me the address."
By the time Jake walked into the club, the neon lights beamed off his skin, and his face was an illustration of worry and confusion.
He didn't have to look long to find you. You were still in the booth with crossed legs, head on Winter's shoulder, laughing uncontrollably at something you couldn't even remember. A vape in one hand, a drink in the other, and your eyes half closed. Jake stopped at the all-too-familiar sight.
The sweet peach vapor rising into the air as you inhaled and then your lips forming a dopey smile murmuring his name again.
"Jake..."
He didn't know whether to be angry, frightened or heartbroken. All he knew was he had never seen you like this before, and it shook the something deep inside of him.
You hardly seemed bothered.
No shred of guilt or regret for how you were holding on to him, smiling a soft smile, eyes slightly hazy, urging him to take another sip. He huffed through his nose, defeated, reached out, took the vape from your fingers, and set it on the glass table with a slight clink.
"Okay that's enough," he muttered.
You pouted slightly, but before you could stammer again, he reached his arm around your waist; you didn't even waist-it would be instinct if he had spent more time with you. The clack of your heels didn't quite match his as he glanced down at the floor. They had to be hurting you.
With every third step you winced. "Shouldn't be wearing such cheap heels," he said lowly with his brow knit. "They're going to bruise your pretty legs."
God. Pretty? What was he thinking?
He glanced down again and clenched his jaw once he saw your dress had hiked up far too high. He reached down and adjust it, then mumbled, "You are unbelievable."
But he was always careful. Always considerate. As if he was afraid if he touched you too sharply, he would break something worth holding.
He brought you down to his car—his expensive, sleek, spotless car that smelled just like him. Woodsy, clean, faintly sweet. You practically melted against him, arms slipping around his as you mumbled sleepily, "Jakey... you smell so sweet."
He coughed, ears flushing. "Y-Yeah?"
He ran a hand through his already messy hair and helped you into the passenger seat, buckling you in before starting the car. The drive to his penthouse was quiet, your head resting against the window, eyes slipping shut within minutes.
You were completely out. By the time he parked and opened the door to his place, you were dead to the world—face relaxed, breathing steady. He looked at you for a beat, then sighed and gently picked you up. You were lighter than he thought you would be. He set you down slowly on his bed, then stepped back and put his hands on his hips as he peered at your sleeping frame.
What was he supposed to do now? Your dress looked uncomfortable. Tight. You'd probably hate waking up in that. And your makeup—he grimaced. You'd hate waking up in that.
But changing you? That felt...wrong. What if you woke up and hated him for that?
He stood still for a moment, pacing a couple steps back and forth, before he sighed loudly and dug through all of his cabinets in the bathroom. He found, surprisingly, micellar water and some cotton pads, probably leftover from his stylist. He walked back to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, tucking your hair back in place as his fingers brushed the side of your face.
He wiped away your makeup with the cotton pad guided by the micellar water in gentle swipes. Your face was soft without and looked younger. The real you.
He cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a second before unzipping your dress carefully, only glancing once to make sure you were still out cold. Trying to look anywhere but at you, he slipped the fabric off your shoulders and grabbed one of his oversized tees and sweats—slipping them onto you like you were made of glass.
He swallowed hard and flung the dress from you and grabbed a blanket and threw it over you. But as soon as he leaned over and adjusted the pillow under your at-the-moment sleeping head, you moved. You pulled him in. A small "don't go," escaped your lips as you yanked him down to you, surprising him with a strength he didn't think your fragile little body had in those moments, especially being drunk.
"Oof—hey—!"
You held onto him like your life depended on it, arms wrapped around his neck, cheek pressed to his shoulder, and legs tangled with his. He froze. You were already asleep again. Heart racing, he released a shaky, unsteady breath as he gently slid down next to you, still dressed in his black top and sweats and unsure of what to do with his hands.
Everything felt so hot, so close, so... intimate. He couldn't help but let his hand explore and find his way to your hair as he mindlessly brushed it back. And maybe he did toss your cheap heels in the trash after he addressed your bruised, swollen ankles before he made the emergency delivery to bring you home, maybe he already contacted a brand contact to deliver a couple nice pairs of heels (in your size of course) that were worthy of being called worthy of you and totally legit.
But for now he closed his eyes. Your breath on his neck. Your body curled into his like it was meant to be there.
When you awoke the following day, you were greeted by the smell of breakfast food and the warm weight of something furry shoved against your side.
Groggy and dazed, your hand moved of its own volition and brushed against thick furry fluff. You cracked open your eyes to see a golden blur stretched out beside you, tail wagging slowly from side to side occasionally becoming far too close to your face, tongue slightly poking out of her mouth.
Layla.
When she noticed you awake, her head perked up from sleepy rest to that unspeakable unsettling excitement only a golden retriever possesses, even at this time of the hour. She let out a little huff, rolled on her back, and scooted towards you, shoving her fuzzy little nose against your arm just before settling back down into her sleep.
That's when it struck you—this was most definitely not your bed.
You blinked again, sat up a little, and inspected your surroundings. The unbelievably soft bedding. The minimalistic room plan. The leftover hint of cologne still lingering on the pillows. You looked down at yourself and realized you were sporting a huge long sleeved shirt and baggy sweats that did not belong to you.
Jake's.
"Fuck..." you muttered and flopped back down into the bed, your hangover returning with increasing intensity.
You were still lying there, playing gently with Layla'S soft ears, trying not to think too hard, when the door creaked open.
Jake stepped in, looking like a movie scene you weren't ready for. White shirt, grey sweats, tousled morning hair. He froze for a second at the sight: you, curled up in his clothes, tangled up in his sheets, golden Layla sprawled across your side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
His heart stuttered.
Why does this look so... domestic? Like some kind of fantasy?
He quickly cleared his throat, eyes darting anywhere but directly at you.
You slowly sat up, squinting at him, a small smirk tugging at your lips despite the dull pounding in your head. "What happened?" you asked, voice rough from sleep.
Jake rubbed the back of his neck, debating how much to say.
"Um..." he started, looking down at Layla, who was now wagging her tail and trotting over to him like she didn't just betray you, and switch sides. "You kind of.... drank a little too much last night. And vaped, too."
You raised an eyebrow, unable to hide your amusement. "I figured," you chuckled, coughing a little into your elbow. "My head feels like it got stomped on."
Jake squatted down again and scratched behind Layla's ears. "You were kind of a mess," he teased, looking up at you for only a moment. "You tried to make me vape with you, you stumbled around in those trash heels, and you clung to me like a drunken koala."
You blinked, completely deadpan. "Sounds about right."
He shook his head, trying not to laugh. "Come downstairs. I made breakfast. You probably need it."
You raised your eyebrow again. "You... cook?"
Jake straightened up and tried to keep his own cool. "I don't burn things. That's good enough."
You slid off the bed, slowly but surely, still adjusting to the pounding in your skull—and the warmth blossoming in your chest at how he was treating you.
"Okay, chef Sim. Lead the way."
As you followed Jake out of the room, Layla trotting beside you like your personal guard dog, you couldn't help but smile a little.
The smell of eggs, toast, and something warm and savory filled your nose as you sat at Jake's sleek, black marble kitchen island. The plate in front of you looked like it came straight out of a cozy brunch café, and you were happily scarfing it down—nursing your hangover one bite at a time.
Jake was across the room, squatting down next to Layla, refilling her food, and exchanging her water with a kind of tenderness you weren't expecting from someone like him. His shirt had wrinkles all over, his hair was messy probably from repeatedly running his hands through it, and he had that same faint smell of cologne that was going to be permanently hardwired into your brain.
You caught him looking. Not in the staring way that you might be thinking, but subtly from the corner of his eye—like he didn't want to raise any suspicion of being caught checking you out while you were curled up in his oversized clothes that now hung off of you like a dress, sleeves falling past your fingers, still a little messy from sleeping, eyes still a little puffy. He turned, leaning against the counter, arms folded.
His expression turned soft. "You look tiny," he said nonchalantly, with an expression that looked as though the underlying sentiment was warmer, "My clothes are eating you alive."
You threw him a tired grin, still chewing, "That's kind of the point."
He chuckled, and bit his lip, shaking his head. He turned and busied himself with cleaning any dirty dishes, so that no one could see him smile.
Later that day, when you finally got home, you found something on your doorstep—a sleek, matte-black box with a ribbon and a gold-embossed card tied to it.
You opened it slowly, your mouth hanging open.
Inside was a pair of beautiful heels—nice dark color with dark red detailing, elegant, high quality. And folded inside at the top of the box was a small note card with one letter in gold foil:
J.S
You blinked, processing. So that's why your busted heels were missing...
You glanced down at your feet. His slippers were still on you. You hadn't even realized you hadn't taken them off yet.
A week later.
You had just stepped out the shower, hair wet, skin glistening, when Jake's name popped up on your screen. You grabbed the closest top—it was an old lace tank top—and threw on some sweats before answering the FaceTime and propping it to your vanity.
"Yo?" you said, towel drying your hair whilst screen loaded.
Jake popped up looking like he was trying to act cool. "Hey," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh... I'm going to this event. It's for my company. Pretty lame actually, but I'm still going. I already asked Sunoo and Winter so I thought-"
"You want me to come too?" you finished as you quickly dabbed moisturizer on your cheeks taking quick glances at the screen.
He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, yeah. I think it would be cool if you went."
You hummed, "Sounds fancy."
Jake raised one of his eyebrows pretending he wasn't watching as you rubbed the product down your jawline. "You'd look good."
You looked back at the screen just as his eyes flicked away. "Were you staring at me?"
"No."
"Jake."
"...Maybe."
You smirked. "I'll go."
The night of the event, the Sim Corp hall was draped in gold light, humming with glamour, money, and practiced small talk. You walked in with Sunoo and Winter by your side, all dressed to the nines, effortlessly flexing the luxury heels Jake had gifted you the night before.
The moment you walked in, people turned their heads.
But you found him. Standing a little bit to the left of the middle of the ballroom, Jake looked like he had walked straight out of a Vogue spread—suit crisp, tie just loose enough that he already looked as though he hated wearing it. But he wasn't all by himself. There were women surrounding him—young, pretty girls, heads angled down, obviously enchanted by his name, his face, his family.
You felt a tight knot in your chest. But then Jake turned—like he felt your arrival. He pushed right through the crowd, eyes locked right on yours. His expression changed. He pushed right through the circle of women without thinking twice and made a beeline straight for you.
Some of the girls exchanged annoyed looks behind him and began whispering, but he didn't care. Not tonight. Because tonight he had a plan. And it started right now.
Jake stopped right in front of you, eyes burning into yours, voice low, a half-smile forming on his lips. "You came."
You tilted your head, trying to play it cool. "You did invited me, didn't you?"
He laughed, his eyes roaming over your dress, your shoes—his shoes, actually—then back to your face. "You look..." he paused for a second, leaned in a bit closer, "unreal."
You blinked. His tone shifted threw you off. "You're trying to get me to blush, Sim?"
"Not trying. Just being honest." His stare didn't waver. "Mind if I take you for a second?"
You arched an eyebrow. "From what? Your harem of fanclub girls?"
He chuckled under his breath, leaning in slightly closer. "I don't care about any of them."
You held his gaze, a sense of something passing between you unspoken and intangible. "Then who do you care about?" you asked, barely above a whisper.
Jake's voice dipped low. "You."
You didn't expect him to be that direct.
Sure, the signs had been there all along—the way he stayed slightly too long at your coffee shop's counter, the fact that he stayed on FaceTime until you fell asleep, the way he mindlessly sent you those heels. Jake Sim made it painfully obvious that he had a crush on you. But a public, "I've had the biggest crush on you, wants my lips on yours" type confession? A public kiss? At this type of event?!
You were stunned, caught completely off guard, when he gently cupped your cheeks and pressed his lips to yours.
And just like that, time seemed to stop.
You felt a collective gasp throughout the great hall. You could faintly hear it through the fever pitch of ringing in your ears—the scandalized murmurs of the wealthy daughters nearby, the startled rustle of skirts, the clink of someone's champagne flute being dropped. Even Soobin, who was constantly scanning Jake like a hawk the entire time both of you were there, froze.
Jake's dad. The girls. Jay, smirking in the distance. Sunoo and Winter, mouths agape in shock.
But Jake didn't care. He didn't care one bit. Because that kiss—it was his answer.
To every single person in that room. To the girls who tried to catch his eye. To the expectations set by his father. To the future they tried to write for him.
His hands slid down to your waist, firm, grounding you like he was saying—you aren't making a mistake. Your hands... they found their way behind his neck, pulling him closer instinctively.
You kissed him back. Right there in front of all of them. Softly at first, then deeper—as if something had snapped between you two. The slow-burn tension finally combusted, and you stopped denying that you had both been flirting for the past few months.
And that is when you were consumed with the spotlight. A warm, blaring white beam lit the two of you up, and you pulled away startled, only to see Jay across the room by the tech booth, giving Jake a discreet thumbs up.
Your eyes widened, "You planned that?" you whispered against his lips.
Jake only smiled, breathless, his forehead resting on yours, "Had to make a statement."
Before you could say anything else, a booming voice broke through the thick silence. "Sim Jaeyun!"
You both turned.
There he was—his furious father, face red as he broke through the crowd like a tank, with each step he took was heavy with rage. He looked at you, then looked at Jake, then looked back at the still-glimmering spotlight above. Jake didn't budge. You felt his hand still at your waist as he pulled you closer, ready to shield you from whatever this coming storm was going to bring.
"She does not belong here," his father spat, venom thick in his voice, "this is not what we agreed to. These guests-"
"I don't care about your guests," Jake cut in, tone sharp, protective. "Or your list. Or whatever arrangement you've made behind my back. I've made my choice."
He gripped your waist a little tighter when he added, and only looking at you now, "And she belongs wherever I am."
His father's face twisted, but barely registered. Because, in that moment, Jake turned to you again, gentler, her fingers brushed the hair behind your ear. "I told you I'm not interested in anyone else," he said softly, "and I meant it."
Then Jake turned back to his father, jaw clenched, voice steady yet icy cold. "Whatever."
He didn't wait for another word, not for his father, nor for the aghast guests. With your hand in his and his other tucked in the pocket of his fitted blazer, he walked out of that claustrophobic ballroom with you beside him, uncaring of the storm behind him. There was a ripple of noise behind you. Some of the voices hissed, some were disgusted.
"She's not even one of us."
"Middle-class? Come on!"
"The nerve—"
But not all reactions were bitter. A few guests exchanged soft smiles and hushed admiration.
"That's real love."
"He found someone who finally makes him happy."
"She makes him feel free."
Because for the first time ever, Jake Sim—the man who was always the family name, the tailored suits, the shaken down company—chose for himself. And he chose you.
Sunoo and Winter followed behind you two, their eyes sparkling with pride like they were just watching the main couple finish in a rom-com. Sunoo was clutching his phone as if he was just dying to edit together a whole video montage of him and his friends leaving this moment.
Jake opened the car door for you, ushering you in gently before sliding into the driver's seat. The interior was dark and quiet, the street lamps casting soft golden glows on his face. He glanced over at you, guilt flickering in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to drag you into... all that."
You looked at him and then chuckled lightly and shook your head. "Jake... I enjoyed it."
His brows lifted slightly. You leaned your head against the window, smiling up at him. "It was chaotic and completely unexpected, but you kissed me like it meant everything."
Jake stared for a moment, stunned in silence—before his lips turned up in that soft, rare smile he only ever gave to you.
"Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend?" he asked almost shyly.
You looked over at him, mischievous. "Well considering you kissed me in front of the entire elite of the city and started a family scandal...yeah, boyfriend. You're stuck with me now."
Jake let out a breathy laugh as he reached over and took your hand, interlocking your fingers. "Good. Because I wouldn't want that any other way."
And just like that, boom—boyfriend and girlfriend. No contracts. No pretending. No expectations. Just you, and him.
(...and somewhere, Layla was probably waiting with her tail wagging ready to jump all over you when you got home.)
summary: in which harry is a ceo in new york city and he decides to go out for lunch. he stumbles upon not only a café but a pretty girl who leaves a impression on him. now he can’t get her out of his head. so he leads her into his work, turns out he isn’t that nonchalant as he thinks.
pairing: - ceo harry styles x fem!reader
warnings/info: fluff | no use of y/n | harry pov | cursing I harry being DOWN FUCKIN BAD | sweetheart reader | new york aesthetics | harry being self deprecating | strangers to lovers trope | lowkey shy harry ish I reader works at a coffee shop | hot harry i love a bossy ceo | mention of pleasing vibrator lol sorry | he’s a tease duh| if i missed anything Imk <3
a/n: i’m baccccck, yall loved the first part of this i didn’t think ppl would enjoy it that much but here we are with part two, people did ask if this will be a series and yes! idk how many parts but it won’t be dragged on for like 5+ parts so don’t worry about that maybe there will be like 5-6 or just 4-5 parts no clue yet i’m just writing part at a time !
It’s been a busy few days since I went into the coffee hut, and exactly five days since I saw you.
Safe to say I remember you. Not like I could forget. You’ve been roaming around in my mind.
Which is a first for me.
I’ve always been ahead of my work. I’m a CEO, yet here I am, acting like a high schooler with a crush on the popular girl I couldn’t have.
It’s sickening actually.
Especially considering I only met you once.
Fucking once.
The people around me have been hustling and bustling all morning. I haven’t even gotten my coffee yet. Maybe that’s the problem.
With the launch of the new spring products, everyone’s been working hard. I’ve been hauled up in my office or stomping around yelling at the idiots on the graphics board.
Which I appreciate, but I need my damn coffee.
Speaking of, in walks my assistant, who looks like he’s gotten no sleep at all.
Well shit. Me either.
“Hey Mr. Styles, I’m calling in an order for breakfast. Hope you don’t mind. I’m a bit backed up with the creative team.”
I sighed, rolling my eyes.
“Fine. Put it on the work card. Where are you ordering from?” I asked, a bit annoyed that I have to wait longer for it to now be delivered.
“Uh, coffee hut. Heard they deliver,” he said, pushing up his glasses as he fidgets with his iPad.
Coffee. Hut.
Coffee? Hut?
Your coffee hut?
Is this a prank? I’m being fooled... it can’t be a coincidence, right? Here I am thinking about you, and poof, a sign of your existence.
It’s a sign right?
Well, if he’s ordering...
“Alright. I’ll get a blueberry pie. Two slices. Black coffee. Throw in a breakfast sandwich, will you? No bacon.” I responded, trying not to think about you hand-making my food and sending someone to deliver it.
Or...
“Also, put I requested the owner to send it themselves,” I added. Not asking for much in my eyes.
“Uh, but Mr. Styles the owner—” he tried to say, looking at me confused.
“Uh-huh. That’s all. And tell me when she’s here, please. Thank you, Joseph. And for all of Fucks' sake, tell the creative team to hurry up with the summer project’s color scheme,” I huffed, grabbing the phone off my desk and dialing the lobby number.
Joseph sighed and walked out toward the elevator. I turned to face the window, looking over the city as I dialed the front desk.
Seeing you again is what I needed today.
I don’t know why, but I wouldn’t mind seeing you again after that too.
“Hey, Kevin. It’s me. A young woman with light eyes and dark hair. She works at the coffee hut. Once she shows up, let me know. Yeah, thanks.”
I hung up, feeling a strange sensation floating through my chest and stomach, nervousness? Anxiety? Stupidity?
Whatever it is, it’s something I haven’t felt in years.
—-
About twenty minutes pass, or what I’d call twenty long, grueling moments of me pacing my office and nearly getting angry and impatient.
My desk phone starts ringing. I run over, answering quickly.
“Mr. Styles speaking.”
“Yeah, boss, it’s Kevin. The young woman is here with your delivery. Do you want me to take it—”
“No. I’ll be down. Make sure she doesn’t leave yet. I’d like to grab it myself,” I cut him off.
“Oh, alright. See you—”
I hang up, slamming my phone down. I walk to my personal elevator and press lobby.
My mind races, trying to shut off the endless thoughts.
What if you think I’m some creepy psychopath?
I met you less than a week ago, and I’m acting like a clingy boyfriend.
I’m such a fucking loser.
Finally, the elevator doors open. My staff's eyes follow me as I walk to the front desk. I’m usually not on the lobby floor much, so it’s probably new to them. They’re probably all scrambling to act busy even though I already know how things run around here.
I approach the front desk. There you are.
Standing with my coffee in your hand and a beige bag with “The Coffee Hut” written on the front and back.
You look beautiful hair curled slightly in a bun, cheeks warm from the early afternoon sun.
You’re wearing some comfy blue baggy jeans and a white tank top, feet in black and white Converse sneakers.
Wow.
Gorgeous.
“Hi sweetheart.” I spoke lowly at first.
“Oh... hi again,” you smile at me.
You recognized me.
Of course, you did.
I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander. I could see you doing the same.
I was dressed in a white top that was transparent enough to see my tattoos. What can I say I’m a bit of a tease. Dressed also in black slacks and black leather loafers.
I saw your eyes return to mine instantly like you caught yourself staring too long.
“Yeah, hi again. Sorry if I made you lose some personal work time, but I requested you drop off the order,” I speak clearly, walking closer, standing in front of you as I quickly take the bag and coffee from your hands.
“That’s no problem,” you laugh, look around, then back at me.
You’re probably pretty confused about what’s going on.
“Um, is this your workplace?” you ask innocently, taking in the luxurious dark and light colors of the lobby.
“Yeah, it is, actually… I uh, own it,” I say hesitantly, gesturing for you to come over to a quiet corner with couches and a small table. I sit down, placing the bag and coffee on the table. I watch as you sit across from me.
“Oh? You own it... that’s quite an achievement,” your eyes widen as you look at me, then around the busy floor. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I’m a CEO of a company I made. It’s called Pleasing. We do nail polishes, clothing, accessories, you know, other... uh, things,” I clear my throat, not wanting to blurt out I make vibrators and lubes that would surely scare you off.
“Pleasing? I actually bought a spring cardigan online from your shop over the weekend,” you smile, eyes shining under the warm ceiling lights.
“Yeah? What color?” I ask, curious about your style.
“The green and cream colored one. It’s adorable,” you show me a photo on your phone of you wearing it, with a blue sky behind you, probably near a beach.
I hum, not wanting to say that I’d frame that photo in my office If you’d let me.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say simply.
You nod and peek at the bag.
“You know, when I saw an order for blueberry pie, black coffee, and a sandwich, I thought of when you ordered it before. But I didn’t think it was actually you,” you smile again.
“I’m glad I’m the blueberry guy now,” I joke, watching you laugh.
“You might just be,” you replied.
You’re so cute. I feel nauseous.
I notice you checking your watch and take a deep breath.
“Sorry, I’ve got to head back. I closed up since I delivered it myself. The only one in the shop today,” you say, standing and smoothing your jeans.
I stand too, not ready for you to leave.
“Um, again, I apologize for that. Can I be honest? It might sound a bit creepy, so please forgive me,” I say softly.
“Yeah, sure,” you reply, eyeing me skeptically but staying.
“I wanted to see you again. I mean, I don’t know. I was a bit taken with you when I saw you. Still am. It’s kind of freaky. This has never happened to me before,” I breathe nervously before continuing.
“I’m Harry Styles, by the way, and I was wondering if you’d like to share lunch or dinner with me uh a date…” I say boldly, feeling the weight of saying 'date' again after so long.
Your face flushes bright red, and you look more surprised if anything. Which eases my nerves, at least you didn’t run away.
“Oh... wow. I wasn’t expecting that,” you say nervously. “Well, yes, for the date. And I’m *** “
I smile at your agreement to the date. “That’s a beautiful name. I’ll take your number and text you the details. Just let me know your schedule, and we can go from there,” I say, pulling out my phone and handing it to you.
You type your info into my phone, labeling it with your name, then hand it back.
“I texted myself so it’s saved properly,” you say, pulling out your own phone to label mine, then sending a silly emoji to make sure it’s through making me chuckle.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you any longer. I’ll text you, yeah?” I put my phone away, sipping my coffee.
“Yeah. I’ll see you soon, Harry,” you smile, walking away with a small wave. I watch until you’re out of sight, making sure no one questions why you’re here I made sure our security is very strong. I wouldn’t want them giving you trouble.
We are in the city, had to make sure we’re safe.
When I’m back in my office, I can’t wipe this stupid grin off my face.
But then I think, why should I?
I’ve got a date with you to look forward to.
So I spend the rest of the day not stopping my stupid smiles when I glance at the coffee cup still resting on my desk.
I decided to go through my phone and I even send a smiley face emoji back to your silly one you sent earlier.
“Can’t wait for our date. Hope the rest of your shift goes smoothly. 🙂” - H
I groan at myself, cringing at how eager I already am.
The day progressed as I mentally started picture where I’d want to take you for our date.
Too many restaurants pop in my head, yet one specific one stood out.
I logged onto my computer and started looking up the menu.
It was about an hour into my research when I decided to text you a date and time.
“Hey. Friday night sound good? Around 7 pm?” - H
I pressed send and twiddled with my fingers when I got a text back within minutes.
That was quick.
“Sounds great. Here’s my address. I trust you wouldn’t stalk me or anything. You seem innocent enough, blueberry man.🫐”
I laughed to myself at the nickname.
Anyone else I would’ve blocked them immediately for this shit.
But you?
I laughed.
And I knew that meant something.
————————————————————————————
just wanted to add i do not use ai in any way to write anything i post. i use a grammer checker which is attached to docs on google.
As the youngest CEO in the company, Park Jongseong is cold, demanding, and impossible to please. But his personal assistant isn’t intimidated—she talks back, pushes his buttons, and somehow gets under his skin like no one else. Their heated tension quickly turns into something neither expected.
nsfw warnings: unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, power dynamics (boss x assistant), office setting smut, dom!sub, rough sex, teasing, oral (m rec), dirty talk, light sub!Jay moments, semi-public, a little overstimulation, office setting smut. (Lmk if I missed anything)
wc: 2k
pairing: ceo!jay x assistant fem!reader
authors note: ok guys… I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really fw this one, definitely feel like I could’ve done better 😭 but anyways, I hope you still enjoy! reblogs, comments, feedback, and likes are always appreciated <3
Working under Park Jay was like working on top of a ticking time bomb.
He was the youngest CEO the company had ever seen—cold, brilliant, and terrifyingly focused. His suits were always perfect. His temper? Not so much.
And somehow, you had ended up as his personal assistant.
You were hired six months ago. Quiet, capable, organized. But Jay quickly realized something else about you:
You weren’t scared of him.
You weren’t intimidated by the way his voice cut through the office, or the way interns nearly cried when he walked past. You didn’t flinch when he barked your name across the floor. You didn’t tremble when he told you to stay late.
Instead, you gave him attitude. Smart comments. Playful looks that lingered too long.
You were the only one who talked back. The only one who ever dared to tease.
And worse—he let you.
You noticed it in the small things at first.
Like how he always called you into meetings even if they didn’t involve your department.
Or how he hovered behind you when you bent to grab files, gaze burning into your back.
Or how his voice dropped an octave when he said your name.
And then there were the accidents.
His hand brushing yours when you handed him his tablet.
His fingers grazing your waist as he passed behind you.
The time he caught you by the hips when you slipped on the marble floor outside his office.
“Careful,” he murmured then, lips too close to your ear. “Wouldn’t want to fall for me.”
Your heart practically stopped.
He didn’t even smile—just let go and walked away, like he hadn’t just ruined your day.
By now, the tension had built so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
And today?
He was already in a bad mood.
Meetings had run late. A deal overseas was falling apart. Half the board was complaining.
You didn’t even get to say good morning before he snapped.
“Where the hell is the updated presentation?”
You placed it on his desk calmly. “Just emailed it to you.”
“Next time, don’t make me ask.”
You raised a brow. “Next time, try saying please.”
Jay looked up from his laptop. Dead in the eyes. His jaw flexed.
And just like that—game on.
You spent the whole morning testing him.
You sat a little too close during meetings.
You called him Jay instead of Mr. Park in front of other execs.
You “accidentally” handed him the wrong report—twice.
By the time it was 3:30 PM, he looked like he was seconds from snapping.
You walked into his office unannounced again, this time with a new folder in hand and a teasing smile.
He didn’t even look up. “You’re getting on my nerves.”
You stepped closer. “That’s funny. You’re always so tense, I thought you liked it.”
He finally lifted his gaze. It was sharp. Dangerous.
“You have ten seconds to walk out of this office.”
You didn’t move. Just tilted your head.
“I think you like it when I get under your skin.”
That was it.
His chair scraped back.
Jay stood, eyes dark, voice low and deadly.
“I’ve let you run your mouth for way too long.”
You backed up slowly as he approached, heartbeat thundering.
“And you’ve been dying for me to do something about it.”
Your back hit the glass wall behind his desk, breath catching.
Jay towered over you now. His voice dropped to a growl.
“So what is it, Miss Y/N? You want to keep acting like a brat…”
His hand landed on the wall next to your head, caging you in.
“Or do you want me to make you behave?”
You weren’t sure what was louder—your heartbeat, or the silence between you.
Jay didn’t touch you. Not yet. But his body was right there, crowding into your space, his palm flat against the wall by your head. His scent—clean, sharp cologne and tension—wrapped around you like static.
He looked at you like he was trying to decide whether to fire you… or fuck you senseless.
“You like playing this game?” he murmured. His voice was low, rich, like warm whiskey. “Pushing me until I snap?”
“I think you’ve already snapped,” you said, breathless.
He didn’t smile. Not really. But his mouth twitched, just enough to feel dangerous.
“I have a company to run,” he said, voice harder now. “People to manage. Deadlines to hit. And then there’s you—” his eyes dropped to your lips, then lower “—wandering around this office like you want me to lose control.”
You swallowed. “Maybe I do.”
That did it.
His hand left the wall and wrapped around your waist in one motion, yanking you flush against him. You gasped softly at the feeling of him—hard, furious, holding back so much.
He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.
“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”
“I do,” you whispered. “And I want it.”
Jay didn’t wait.
He spun you around and pushed you toward the desk. Not rough—but firm. Final. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do to you hours ago.
And now?
You’d finally given him permission.
Jay pressed you against his desk, your hips hitting the cool surface. One hand gripped your waist, the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough for his mouth to reach your neck.
“You really don’t know when to shut that mouth, do you?” he growled against your skin.
Your breath caught. “Maybe I like when you shut it for me.”
That earned you a sharp smack—right on your ass. You gasped, half from shock, half from the heat it sent shooting through your spine.
Jay’s mouth curled against your neck. “You like acting like a brat. So now, you’re gonna take what you’ve been begging for.”
He shoved your skirt up without ceremony, bunching the fabric at your waist. You felt the drag of his palm down your thigh, fingers sliding up to hook in your panties.
“These are cute,” he murmured, then ripped them off in one quick motion. “But you won’t be needing them.”
You moaned, breath trembling, hands clutching at the desk as he kicked your legs open wider.
And then—his fingers.
Two slid between your folds, slow and teasing, finding you already soaked.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Look at this. Wet just from mouthing off in my office?”
You whined, rocking your hips back against his hand. “Jay—”
“No,” he snapped, withdrawing his fingers. You whined in protest. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Not when you’ve been acting like a spoiled little thing all day.”
He unbuckled his belt with one hand, the metallic clink sharp in the quiet room. The sound alone made your knees weak.
“Bend over,” he ordered, voice thick. “Hands flat on the desk. Don’t move.”
You obeyed instantly, heart pounding, cheek pressed to the cold wood as you heard the zipper go down.
Then you felt it—him. Thick, hot, rubbing right against your entrance, slow and deliberate.
Jay leaned over your back, lips right by your ear.
“Beg for it.”
You trembled. “Please, Jay… please fuck me.”
He sank in one slow, punishing thrust.
You cried out, your back arching, nails clawing at the desk as he filled you inch by inch—no warning, no mercy.
“God, you’re tight,” he groaned. “So fucking tight, wrapped around me like this…”
He didn’t move at first—just held himself there, letting the stretch overwhelm you. Letting you feel everything.
Then he pulled out halfway and slammed back in, setting a bruising rhythm that made your breath stutter.
Your moans turned to sobs, hands scrambling for grip.
Jay grabbed your hips, fucking you deep, hard, relentless. “You wanna test me at work? Walk around like you don’t know what that pretty mouth does to me?”
Another thrust—harder. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” you cried, back arching. “Yes, I—I needed this—”
“You needed to be ruined.”
He reached around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles.
You screamed, body shaking as your orgasm slammed into you without warning. Jay didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, chasing his own high, thrusts getting messier, rougher.
“Fuck—gonna cum inside you,” he growled, gripping your hips like he owned you.
And then he did.
His hips snapped forward once, twice—then stilled. You felt him twitch deep inside, warmth spreading as he filled you up.
He collapsed over your back, both of you breathing hard, the room spinning in silence.
“…You’re still on the clock,” he finally muttered against your shoulder, voice wrecked.
You snorted, half-laughing. “This wasn’t in my job description.”
Jay pulled out slowly, and you whimpered at the sensitivity.
He smacked your ass once more. “It is now.”
You’re both still catching your breath, your body aching in the best ways, your legs trembling from how hard he just took you.
Jay’s sitting now—half-sprawled in his massive leather office chair, shirt unbuttoned, belt undone, eyes hooded with heat. He looks wrecked. Flushed cheeks, sweat-damp hair, the barest smirk tugging at his lips.
But he’s still hard.
You glance down.
Still thick, still glistening, resting against his thigh.
Your mouth waters.
Jay catches the look in your eyes and chuckles, low and dark. “Don’t tell me you want more.”
You kneel between his legs without a word.
His breath catches as your hands slide up his thighs, slow and teasing, fingers brushing over his sensitive skin. His cock twitches slightly—still heavy, still waiting.
“I think you deserve a break,” you murmur, voice thick with mischief. “Let me take care of you this time.”
Jay’s head is tipped back, one hand white-knuckling the armrest of his office chair, the other still tangled in your hair—but it’s trembling now. His thighs are tense, abs twitching with every slow swirl of your tongue around his tip.
“You’re… fuck,” he breathes, voice barely holding steady, “so good at that.”
You moan around him again, deliberately slow, letting him feel the vibration in your throat.
His cock twitches, and he whines—low, strained, like he hates how much he loves this.
Jay always acted in control. Power was his language. Cold, sharp suits. Terse meetings. Your name said like a command.
But right now?
He was falling apart. All because of you. On your knees, looking up at him with those innocent eyes while you slowly, filthily, swallowed him down.
“God, baby,” he groans, hips twitching when you suck harder. “You’re gonna make me—”
His breath catches. He looks down at you, eyes dark and glassy. His brows furrow as you work him deeper, letting spit drip down your chin.
“You’re not playing fair,” he mutters, voice strained. “I’m supposed to be in control.”
You smile around him, just barely.
And then you take him to the base, lips pressed against his skin.
Jay’s entire body jerks—his hips lift off the chair with a choked gasp. His hand tightens in your hair, but it’s not guiding you anymore—it’s anchoring him. Holding on for dear life.
“Shit—fuck, sweetheart, I—”
He moans again, high and breathy, his composure cracking.
“Please…” he whispers. “Don’t stop. Just like that—don’t stop, please—”
That was it.
The mighty, cold CEO, begging, voice trembling, legs shaking. Trying to hold it together while you pulled every last sound out of him.
You pull back just a little, working the tip with your mouth and tongue. Your hand slides up to stroke him slowly, matching your pace.
“You gonna cum for me, sir?” you murmur against his skin, lips brushing the sensitive head. “Wanna make a mess for me?”
Jay swears, shuddering under your touch.
“You’re dangerous,” he pants. “Too good—fuck, I can’t—”
His hips buck again. Once. Twice.
And then he’s gasping—head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut as he cums hard with a strangled, broken moan. His thighs tremble, hand still clutching your hair like he’s grounding himself, as you let him ride it out slowly, tenderly.
You swallow again, lips still brushing him softly, licking him clean like it’s nothing. Like you didn’t just make the most powerful man you know beg for it.
Jay finally opens his eyes, looking completely dazed.
He lets out a soft, breathless laugh.
“Okay,” he says hoarsely. “You win.”
You smirk as you stand, brushing your lips with the back of your hand.
